In the heart of Kwun Tong, Yue Man Centre pulsed with life. It wasn’t just a shopping center. It was a community hub, a place where stories unfolded for half a century. Yue Man Centre, affectionately known as U-Mall, housed local food stores, restaurants, and jewelry shops. Street stalls and clothing traders added to the vibrant tapestry. The air buzzed with activity. This wasn’t just commerce, it was connection. Yue Man Centre even boasted “Old Mac,” one of Hong Kong’s oldest McDonald’s. This iconic McDonald’s set a global record in 1981 for serving the most customers in a single day. The square echoed with the click of cameras. Photographers and Instagrammers captured its unique charm. Yue Man Centre even graced the silver screen, appearing in Wong Kar-wai’s 1995 film, Fallen Angels. But progress, like a double-edged sword, loomed. Redevelopment plans threatened to erase this vibrant hub. While promising a better future for some, it spelled uncertainty for others, like Mr. Leung, the 85-year-old watch repairman. For almost 50 years, he meticulously plied his trade at Yue Man Centre. Now, his future hung in the balance. He and 25 other small business owners faced displacement. Mr. Leung yearned to pass down his skills, but time seemed to be running out. The redevelopment, a behemoth project first proposed in 1998, cast a long shadow. Fourteen years of struggle between residents, artisans, and the government culminated in an inevitable transformation. A farewell event, organized by the community group Living in Kwun Tong, offered a poignant goodbye. Attendees witnessed demonstrations by local craftsmen, a photo exhibition, and a guided tour, all paying tribute to Yue Man Centre. The chairman of Living in Kwun Tong lamented the closures as a “dimming of the lights.” He hoped visitors would appreciate Kwun Tong’s significant role in Hong Kong’s growth over the past 50 years. He also wanted to highlight the uneven distribution of benefits from the redevelopment, with unlicensed tradesmen receiving nothing. Mr. Leung, one such tradesman, saw his business decline by 50% since the project began. He simply wanted reasonable compensation for his years of dedication. Another craftsman, known as “the gentleman,” Mr. Shir Wing-shing, worked from a tiny mobile stall. He’d been trying to secure a fixed-pitch hawker license for years, to no avail. While acknowledging the societal benefits of redevelopment, he lamented the displacement of small local stores. Both Mr. Leung and Mr. Shir expressed their love for their craft and the community spirit of Yue Man Centre. They recognized the inevitability of change. But as Yue Man Centre’s final moments ticked away, their stories, and the stories of this vanishing community, serve as a poignant reminder of a bygone era.
Центральный дом работников искусств
Step through the grand wooden doors of the Central House of the Workers of Art, and you’ll be transported to