An Uncommon “Boarding School” Experience

Growing up overnight

Every summer, university campuses and the streets of Hong Kong are filled with groups of first-year students exploring the city with newly made friends during orientation camps (commonly known as O Camps), marking the beginning of a new chapter in their lives. For Ah Ho, however, the summer of 2019, and the time that followed behind bars, became an altogether uncommon kind of orientation experience, leaving him with memories that are bittersweet and deeply complex.

That summer was filled with tear gas. In place of orientation camp games came street protests — one confrontation after another. Ah Ho, then a university student, devoted much of his time to the democracy movement. Although he was never arrested at a protest, he gradually came under police scrutiny due to his interest in military studies and wargaming. Later, rather than receiving a financial penalty as was common in similar cases, Ah Ho became entangled in a complicated legal process marked by darkness and betrayal.

Amid the social movement, Ah Ho believed the authorities used the case to justify arrests and violent repression. He had initially expected to plead guilty and bring the matter to a close. What he did not anticipate was that other arrestees would agree to the police-constructed narrative, testimony that ultimately contributed to his years of imprisonment.

Beyond losing his youth behind bars, Ah Ho recalls the deep sense of betrayal he felt upon learning that others had cooperated with the police’s version of events. It left him struggling to trust people. Yet, encounters with fellow comrades during this unusual O Camp gradually restored some of his faith in humanity.

Between entering his guilty plea and serving his sentence, Ah Ho was held at both Pik Uk Correctional Institution and Lai Chi Kok Reception Centre. His time at Pik Uk was the darkest period of his life. In addition to frequent scolding and humiliation by staff, he was also bullied by other detainees, particularly because of his political background.

Ah Ho spent his 21st birthday in prison. Upon reaching adulthood, he was no longer subject to the “3S” management approach applied to young offenders, namely short sentence, sharp discipline, and shock treatment. His subsequent transfer to Lai Chi Kok marked the beginning of a new chapter in this unexpected O Camp.

Ah Ho describes the experience in Lai Chi Kok as being like “going to a boarding school”. In recent years, the hidden rules and untold stories of life behind bars gradually became known to the wider public as an increasing number of comrades were charged and sentenced. It was during this period that Ah Ho encountered situations that were far from ordinary, and at times bizarre.

With long hours of confinement and little to do in their cells, detainees developed their own ways of passing the time rather than simply sitting in silence. Snacks were quietly exchanged, improvised prison delicacies were created, and coloured pens were secretly used in place of the standard blue ballpoint pen permitted by prison regulations.

After experiencing these unfamiliar and often surreal moments, Ah Ho says his state of mind can best be captured by lyrics from “Decision” (選擇) by Hong Kong hip-hop artist Joe Yip (拉天糟):

// I won’t choose to follow the path others take

You only live once, so you have to strive for what you want yourself//

Behind bars, Ah Ho also fulfilled something he had long wanted to do — getting a tattoo of a Viking totem, symbolising courage.

Challenging the rules imposed on him brought a sense of excitement. It was, as Ah Ho puts it, something “fun” to do. Yet that excitement came at a cost. He was placed in solitary confinement several times, and his sentence was extended as a result. Reports filed by other inmates contributed to these punishments.

Listening to Ah Ho recount the betrayals and bullying he experienced, it is clear that the sense of injustice still weighs on him. But some of the hardest realities of prison life were systemic. The influx of prisoners connected to the social movement significantly increased staff workloads, while members of the disciplined services were often openly hostile towards protesters. Prisoners with certain backgrounds were sometimes treated with leniency, whereas newly arrived comrades, who were unfamiliar with the unwritten rules of prison life, were repeatedly singled out.

“Yellow-ribbon dogs” was the term gang-affiliated inmates used to refer to those imprisoned for their participation in the social movement. They would demand snacks and other resources from them. The daily intimidation eventually reached a breaking point. Ah Ho recalls the chaos that erupted when a group of comrades stood up for someone who had been bullied. What began as a verbal confrontation nearly escalated into a physical fight before staff intervened.

Although this small “battle” did not overturn the prison’s power structure, the solidarity shown in protecting one another deeply moved Ah Ho during that dark period. After leaving this “boarding school”, he has remained in contact with several comrades he met inside. He briefly reconnected with one of the gang-affiliated inmates as well, but realised that the relationship was fleeting when the man later asked to borrow money. That reminded Ah Ho that some people were only ever passing figures in his life.

After returning to the outside world, Ah Ho completed his degree and found a job. On the surface, life appeared to return to normal. Yet everything had changed. Following the pandemic, Ah Ho noticed banners promoting the National Security Law across Hong Kong, alongside a growing presence of mainland Chinese businesses. The transformation deeply shocked him. “I never imagined that scenes I associated with Guangzhou would one day become reality in Hong Kong,” he says. What happened afterwards ultimately convinced him that it was time to leave the city.

Departing to Britain: Rediscovering Companionship in the Diasporic Community

After leaving prison, Ah Ho was grateful to be able to complete his degree and secure a job. Yet the “improved” Hong Kong, where many people seemed mainly concerned with entertainment and travelling to mainland China for cheaper products and services, left him feeling melancholic.

Even after his release, he remained cautious and anxious, fearing another wave of repression. He no longer felt able to return to his hobby of wargaming. Later, information from undisclosed sources led him to suspect that he might have become a target of the authorities, meaning he could once again lose his freedom. Eventually, he decided to leave Hong Kong.

Ah Ho had initially preferred to move to Canada because of its forests and wilderness. However, considering the potential impact of his criminal record on a visa application and the financial burden involved, he decided instead to come to the UK. After arriving, he submitted an asylum application. What he did not expect at the time was the support he would receive from various Hong Kong organisations in the UK.

What surprised Ah Ho the most was the opportunity to attend Hongkonger rallies and marches again. He also became involved in humanitarian aid through Bonham Tree. He admits that he had not had high expectations of the Hong Kong community in the UK, but what he saw and experienced changed his mind.

At rallies and marches, there are sometimes pessimistic messages that can dampen the mood. Nevertheless, Ah Ho tries to remain optimistic and supportive of those who continue speaking out for Hong Kong. As he puts it: “I really appreciate what they are doing. They are doing something that is no longer allowed in Hong Kong and trying to bring hope to everyone.”

When speaking about his future in the UK, Ah Ho says he can only wait and see. He is currently appealing his asylum case, describing the court’s rejection of his evidence of arrest and imprisonment as “ridiculous.” He also says the Home Office’s handling of Hong Kong asylum cases has affected many comrades in similar situations. In his view, there should be discretionary measures for BN(O) visa applicants and a separate approach for cases related to the Hong Kong social movement. Otherwise, many comrades will continue to be let down.

Illustration: @lumlilumlong_

Text: Vincent Vega

Translation: Kai

* Bonham Tree Aid distributes £380 a month to imprisoned protesters’ families in need of sustenance to alleviate their difficulty in meeting the costs of living. Founded in October 2021, currently, Bonham Tree Aid is supporting around 100 families. There are over 70 families on its waiting list, awaiting emergency assistance.

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