Ha Wo Hau

Clutching my grandmother’s worn leather-bound journal, I first heard whispers of Ha Wo Hau. Not of Shenzhen’s gleaming skyscrapers or bustling markets. My grandmother, a child of the New Territories, spoke of a simpler time. A time of small villages and ancient traditions. Ha Wo Hau, she’d say, was a place lost to time, swallowed by the relentless march of progress. Now, here we stand, at the edge of what was once Ha Wo Hau. This abandoned hamlet, a ghost of its former self, whispers stories of a bygone era. My grandmother’s journal entries speak of Ha Wo Hau’s proximity to Deep Bay. Known as Hau Hoi Wan in her time, the bay teemed with fish and oysters, sustaining the villagers. She described the bustling markets of Lau Fau Shan, famous for its succulent oysters. She recounted tales of the greasyback shrimp, a delicacy harvested from the bay’s unique fish farms. Life in Ha Wo Hau was intertwined with the rhythms of Deep Bay. Even the illegal immigrants, seeking a new life in Hong Kong, used the bay as their passage. Ha Wo Hau, though small and unassuming, bore witness to this clandestine movement of people. Today, the landscape has changed dramatically. The vibrant marshes that once lined the bay’s northern shore, teeming with life, have been replaced by concrete and steel. The relentless expansion of Shenzhen has claimed much of the natural beauty that defined this area. But even amidst the modern cityscape, the spirit of Ha Wo Hau endures. In the whispers of the wind rustling through the remaining foliage, in the quiet strength of the ancient Tin Hau Temple at Chiwan, just a short distance from here. The temple, a testament to the seafaring traditions of the region, stands as a reminder of the deep connection between the people and the bay. It serves as a poignant echo of Ha Wo Hau’s rich history. As we stand here, imagine the families who once called this place home. Picture the children playing in the fields, the fishermen casting their nets into the bay, and the traders bustling through the markets. Ha Wo Hau may be abandoned, but its story continues to resonate, reminding us of the enduring power of place and memory.