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//After her child was sentenced, she lost her sense of purpose and could not cry anymore. While having a long-needed getaway abroad, she ended up finding herself a political asylum seeker.// Among the many cases the Bonham Tree Aid  encounters, initially, many were about the halt of family income due to arrest and imprisonment. Later, there have been comrades who continue to suffer economic suppression in various forms even after their release. Rarely, however, does the repression extend to the families of those arrested. The case of Kin Ma  (pseudonym) shows that it can happen, and is happening. She faced escalating threats simply for assisting her child with legal aid for the case arising from the protest movement. Eventually, she had no choice but to flee overseas. Becoming a political asylum seeker is just one of many painful steps she has taken to hold together her family since the protests. During the Anti-Extradition Bill movement, many people first experienced visiting detainees and learning about prison rules. Kin Ma was no exception. She recalls the traumatic feeling when she first heard about her child's arrest. Because she was already dealing with a major family crisis at the time, other family members struggled to tell her the bad news right away. When she finally found out, her mind went completely blank. She had assumed that her child would be released on bail soon after arrest, just like in many other cases. However, from arrest to sentencing, the process spanned over two years. Kin Ma said that every prison visit was "with tears held back" as she worried about how her child was coping behind bars. What was more worrying was the accumulation of cases, which led to unpredictable delays in the legal process. Kin Ma has been a family woman who was solely responsible for raising several children. After her child was arrested during protests, she was forced to juggle work, take care of the children in school, visit her detained child daily, send supplies to prison, and handle legal matters. The stress of these tasks from all sides gradually became unbearable, not to mention the ongoing social movement and the pandemic. Kin Ma braved the hardships and visited every day during her child's detention, given that the location changed from Lai Chi Kok to Stanley. Being a presence for her child, even if it was only through the prison wall, gave her a sense of purpose. But the long-term emotional and mental toll eventually caught up with her. When the sentencing finally came, she broke down. The "iron lady" finally collapsed. From participating in the social movement to her child's arrest and sentencing, Kin Ma's life was turned upside down. She describes herself after the sentencing as a hollow person, where she would sit alone for hours without knowing what to do next. During the pandemic, all prisoners were subject to isolation, and visits were suspended. Kin Ma felt her entire sense of purpose had vanished. Emotionally drained, but Kin Ma just couldn't cry anymore. When friends and relatives saw her dramatic weight loss, they suggested she take a break where she could stay with overseas relatives. However, what Kin Ma would face was a more challenging and uncertain journey. During the pandemic, the Hong Kong government intensified its crackdown on civil society. Organisations that supported arrested protesters became the regime's targets. In 2022, the Department of Justice (DOJ) sent letters to all law firms in Hong Kong demanding information on cases supported by the 612 Humanitarian Relief Fund . The case of Kin Ma's children also fell into the government's political suppression. Due to the potential risks, Kin Ma cannot share too many details about her child's case. However, actions by the DOJ and various banks confirmed for her that the case had become one of the government's targets. After seeking legal advice, she decided to apply for asylum abroad in 2023. Given that the continued persecution from the Hong Kong government didn't stop and reports of increased bank scrutiny, compounded with the various forms of harassment against her, she has affirmed her decision to claim asylum. She knows that she will not be able to return home for a long time. What began as a getaway abroad has now turned into a political exile, the distance between Kin Ma and her family has extended from the prison wall to across the ocean. Looking back over a few years, Kin Ma is grateful that her children were always considerate and united. They have been supporting one another since her mental health deteriorated and she could no longer manage everyday life, until now, when she is forced to leave Hong Kong. Many comrades face delays in asylum applications due to the nature of their cases or lack of documentation. Although Kin Ma's case has been assisted by overseas Hong Kong organisations, the changing immigration policies in Western countries point to an uncertain future. Ming Yeung, founder and director of Bonham Tree, notes that one major misconception about the situation of the incarcerated comrades is the belief that once released, they no longer face any oppressions. It is not the case, and those comrades still need our support. As global concern for Hong Kong has faded away over the past few years, it has become much harder to push for policies that support released comrades, including reducing residency requirements. From the story of Kin Ma, we know that the political suppression not only targets the frontline protesters, but also the people around them. The next part of the story will detail Kin Ma's adjustment to life overseas, her current situation and concerns, and how she hopes to continue connecting with the overseas Hongkonger community. Illustration: Hongkonger Text: Vincent Vega Translation: Kai T

// From tearful prison visits to lying alone in a hospital bed — she bore it all to hold herself and her broken family together. With motherly love and unyielding conviction, she bravely proclaims: “I can still say it loud — I am who I am.” // After arriving overseas, what began as a temporary break for Kin's Mum turned into a decision to seek asylum. In just a few years, her fate shifted many times — the fatigue, confusion, and sorrow she experienced are difficult for outsiders to comprehend. On top of an uncertain future, Kin's Mum now faces even greater trials. Yet despite the mounting challenges, she remains full of hope and continues striving to support fellow Hongkongers. Though the road ahead is unclear, Kin's Mum has not lost her heart. After arriving, she actively planned for long-term livelihood. In 2023, following her asylum application, she secured a full-time job at a local restaurant in her new city, allowing her to financially support her family. She had hoped to gradually rebuild her life and later return to supporting the Hong Kong community. However, after years of balancing heavy family responsibilities and daily prison visits to her son Kin Jai, along with emotional stress, the exhaustion of her long and unstable journey eventually took a toll on her health. Since last year, Kin's Mum’s health has been deteriorating, forcing her to resign from full-time work and switch to part-time in order to rest. Unfortunately, a recent medical check-up brought more bad news — she now needs to focus on recovery for the foreseeable future. Speaking about her illness, Kin's Mum does not show pessimism. She sees this period as a time for "maintenance and repair," to rebuild strength for the journey ahead. As she awaits more detailed treatment plans, she also looks forward to finally reuniting peacefully with her children. Kin's Mum, who has worked tirelessly, says her biggest wish now is: “To have a roof over our heads, to give them a home again.” She feels she has failed as a mother, having been away for more than two years and unable to care for her children still in Hong Kong. Thankfully, her children did not hold it against her — one even left school early to take on the family's burden. Under the same roof, at least they have each other. The monthly financial aid from the Bonham Tree Aid has also helped ease the family’s financial strain. Anyone who has lived abroad will know how difficult it is to be sick and alone in a foreign land — the yearning for close family becomes even more intense. Kin's Mum acknowledges this but understands her children are growing up and have their own lives. She doesn’t demand they stay by her side or make sacrifices for her. Even after her son regained his freedom last year and faced the worsening situation in Hong Kong, Kin's Mum never asked him to abandon his friends still imprisoned. She leaves the decision to them. What she can do now is offer them all the support she can. The protest has left Kin's Mum’s life in pieces — her family separated by oceans. Leaving home alone was already a heavy burden. To also relinquish the duties of motherhood made her decision even weightier. Speaking of her children's arrest, she blames herself for not being a good mother, yet firmly believes they did nothing wrong: “It’s not my kids who did wrong. It’s this government.” Due to the vast geography of many foreign countries, most Hongkonger support organisations and events are centered in major cities. This makes it harder for people outside these hubs to find help or engage with the diaspora. In Kin's Mum’s city, for example, there is no longer an active local Hongkonger group. She hopes to contribute to supporting exiled Hongkongers and help organise a local community if her health permits. Kin's Mum has her own ideas about how best to help fellow Hongkongers abroad. She hopes to act as a parental figure — guiding young exiles through their initial settlement and adaptation, helping them take their first steps. Once her own support efforts become stable, she plans to become a platform to consolidate resources for more people. Seeing how many overseas Hongkonger communities hit roadblocks or fall into internal conflict after a few years, Kin's Mum is wary of being seen as someone “profiting off others' suffering.” She insists she is the type who prefers to quietly get things done, not one to lead an NGO or similar effort. She emphasises the importance of working within her own limits. As for the future, Kin's Mum says that even if she has the chance to participate in Hongkonger-related work, she would prefer to contribute as a volunteer. She reveals that in the past, fellow protesters had invited her to join community projects, but due to her health, she had to decline — hoping instead to take part once she has recovered. Looking back on her journey over the past five or six years, Kin's Mum sums it up with lyrics from the classic Cantopop song “Man Ngo” (Ask Me), believing the song best reflects her state of mind. Through this interview, we see a woman who has endured countless ups and downs, tears and laughter, yet continues to hold fast to her beliefs — still determined to do what she believes is right, and still able to sing out: “I can still say it loud — I am who I am.” Illustration: Hongkonger Text: Vincent Vega Translation : Hongkonger

(only HongKongese version is Available) 2019抗爭運動凝聚能量之大，不僅僅在於告別以往「和理非」範式，black bloc着裝、參與直接行動示威之間，有不同年齡手足。今期細葉榕手足故事，將由根叔（為保護身份化名）第一人稱出發，講述參與社運、被囚到重投社會歷程，以及最初申請細葉榕人道援助基金因由。 「我叫根叔，同好多香港人一樣，2019年嗰陣上街示威聲援反送中運動。不過，因為日頭要搵食，好多時喺夜晚收工之後先參加聚集。直到十月，政府宣布要立《禁蒙面法》當晚，我喺現場見到有人一邊揸住磚頭一邊拆路障，眼見同場有啲其他手足，驚佢哋危險就出手制止嗰啲拆路障嘅人，結果不幸被捉到。」 「同好多社運案一樣，律政司落案嗰陣用咗刑期較重的「傷人17」起訴。當日喺現場，一身街坊裝俾人影到哂，冇得揀惟有認罪啦。我喺庭上試過解釋㗎，當晚出手旨在保護年輕手足，擔心嗰啲唔知咩人，攞住磚頭會傷到人先郁手阻止。最後法官都冇接納減刑，冇計最終判咗幾年監，到2022年底先至出嚟，叫做重獲自由。」 「根叔我早出身，好後生就做嘢幫補家計，讀書唔多兼一把年紀，出冊要過搵份安定工作發覺都幾難。疫情期間周圍環境一般，啱啱放學出來又得自己一個人，重新開始生活初頭過得有啲艱苦。幸好，一出牆外就有不少手足幫手，一邊同我申請資助，又四出奔波租屋，最緊要係搵到份清潔工，讓根叔叫做可以回一回氣，慢慢重新立足社會。」 失去過自由的人會知道，一旦外面有事情未了，諸多煩惱在牆內會變得更加棘手。根叔除了要為案件賠償一筆錢外，先前房子租約未完、信用卡數、電話雜費等要花心機處理。回想起當時，根叔自言不時發愁。即使膝下有兒，但仔女有各自世界，難聽點講仔細老婆嫩，根叔作為父親又怎能再要求他們不斷付出，最後只好欠下朋友又一筆人情債。 「我本來打算出嚟後努力工作，正職以外再跑多份兼職夜更，盡快還返朋友幫手墊支嘅錢啦。估唔到香港依家經濟都真係好麻麻，開始返清潔工冇幾耐，公司就話要執笠。原先諗住清潔工萬零蚊人工夠俾燈油火蠟，咁兼職份收入儲起嚟就可以逐個月還返先前同朋友借嘅錢，但霎那間連自己生活開支俾唔俾到都成問題。」 如果沒有感到過傍徨及憂愁，這當然是自欺欺人。幸好，根叔在牆內時得知細葉榕人道基金，剛放學有手足協助申請，等候一輪後終於獲批。對比起其他更生援助只夠資助獲釋後短期車馬費，細葉榕每個月幾千元援助為根叔帶來一陣及時雨，馬上減輕不少經濟壓力。 很多上了年紀的手足反映，放學後求職遇到的困難不比未成年手足低。背負着案底，意味保安工作也不用考慮。根叔説到，年紀大、學歷不高、手腳慢，「換轉我係老闆都唔會考慮請自己啦」。 根叔這段路途猶幸得到手足關照，其後再獲介紹工作。洗衣店新工作要跑上跑落擔擔抬抬，對踏入耳順之年的根叔，實在相當吃力，無法再找夜更兼職工作。不過，現在這個時勢，但求工作穩定，有收入支撐起生活，毋須再打人情牌，根叔便相當知足。 「呢幾年好多人確實過得唔容易，根叔慶幸一班舊雨新知伸出援手，而放學後能夠遇返同聲同氣嘅手足相聚，再難捱都有大家互相打吓氣，講真都相當感恩。希望大家記得而家仍然喺牆內，或者被迫去到海外嘅手足們，等佢哋唔好孤苦伶仃。大家加油！」 插畫： @sidelee.studio 文：Vicent Vega

(only HongKongese version is Available) //在異國他鄉的歲月中，音樂不僅是一段聲音的流動，而是一場情感的對話，一場心靈的共振。在這動人的樂章中，喜悅與憂傷糾結交織，激勵所有聽眾為明天而奮鬥。音樂的神奇在於它能讓過去的記憶與未來的憧憬碰撞出火花，將無限的可能性賦予每一顆心靈的深處。 正是這奔放的旋律，點燃了每一顆因孤獨而沉寂的心。音樂如同激流，不僅喚醒了自己，也點燃了那些正徘徊在夢想邊緣的靈魂。聆聽者在他的聲音當中找到了一種強烈的召喚和無畏的勇氣，音樂像水晶般清澈，擊碎所有的哀愁與恐懼。它呼喚著所有人站起來，讓心中的希望如同烈火般燃燒，去擁抱那個一直渴望卻未能觸及的未來！ 阿域的音樂不僅是一曲頌歌，更是一場生命的革命。用音符，為每一個被孤獨擊潰的人重新注入生命的力量，用無畏的激情鼓舞他們向前行。正如那跳動的音符，無論再艱難的歲月，都將被音樂的光輝照亮，而在那光中，他們將重新找到自己的方向與未來的道路！// 受訪者：說書人阿域 @storyteller_vic 撰文：Jack London @ching_raphy 剪接： Jack London @ching_raphy

*Image is a fictional representation, not the actual appearance of the interviewee. “Loss” is a subject many protesters must learn. In the pursuit of justice and ideals, long before we ever come close to the goal, loss is inevitable. Yung’s story is simple, but it is the kind of simplicity that conceals complexity. It could be summarised in a single line: “A teacher struck off for protesting loses __.” At first glance, one might expect that blank to be filled with “job”, “teaching post”, or “future”. But after speaking with Yung, it became clear: what he lost cannot be summed up in just two words. Perhaps walking alongside someone begins with understanding the road they've travelled. 【To Lose Without Understanding, To Go Without Regret】 For Yung, teaching was never just a job — it was his passion. “When you truly love what you do, you don’t think about gain or loss — you just want to do it well.” To give students the best possible classroom experience, he worked until 3 or 4 a.m., prepared extra materials, returned to school on Saturdays without pay, and never once complained. “Even though I was exhausted — as tired as a dog — I felt deeply satisfied.” It was the only time during our entire conversation that Yung smiled with genuine warmth. But passion couldn’t shield him from what came next. Like many in Hong Kong in 2019, Yung took to the streets. And like many, he was arrested. He was charged with “rioting” — an accusation that, almost without notice, has become a routine offence familiar to many Hongkongers. His casual tone gave the sense that he’d seen it coming all along. Yung wasn’t devastated by the arrest — at least not in the way one might expect. The real pain came afterward. “Honestly, I had considered the possibility of being arrested — I’d played it out in my head countless times. And losing my job as a teacher? I’d thought about that too, at least rationally. But some things, no matter how much you prepare for them, feel completely different when you’re actually living them.” The school board informed Yung that he would need to leave immediately to safeguard the school’s reputation, though institutional pressure likely played a part too. “I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt — but what hurt the most, what I couldn’t bear to let go of, was my students.” 【Receiving the Struck-Off Notice Behind Bars – The Loneliness Behind a Lie】 During the bail period, Yung managed to pick up a writing job. The salary wasn’t great, but for someone trying to figure out his next steps, he put it simply: “In that situation, having any job was already a good thing.” The conviction rate for “rioting” charges in the new Hong Kong is well known and hardly needs repeating. Yung never held onto false hope — he simply prepared himself for the outcome. “I couldn’t bring myself to tell my family I’d been arrested and would be going to prison, so I told them a ‘white lie’ — that I’d been given a rare opportunity to study abroad and would be leaving Hong Kong for a few years.” To keep up the pretence, he even sent money home regularly as “household expenses”. Naturally, this meant he couldn’t rely on his family for emotional support while in prison. During his time in prison, Yung received the expected letter from the Education Bureau — confirmation that he had been struck off. It meant he would be barred from teaching for the foreseeable future. The teaching role he had yearned for, sacrificed so much to achieve, and devoted years of his life to, was gone in a single moment. “I thought I was prepared,” he reflected. “But when I saw the letter, I couldn’t stay calm — it felt like I’d lost a piece of my life.” “Last year, I finally ‘finished school’,” Yung said. But after legal fees, two years of sending money home, and basic prison expenses, his savings had been nearly wiped out. “I’m not joking — I had $147 left in my bank account. The ATM wouldn’t even let me withdraw more than a single $100 note.” 【Gathering what’s broken, living through what remains.】 The first major lesson after “finishing school” was financial survival. With the help of Bonham Tree Aid, a day-rate writing job from his old company, and some tutoring introduced by a friend, he was barely able to scrape by. Although the pay was modest, he couldn’t afford to stop working. “I work hard from Monday to Saturday. My savings are gone, and now I have to cover rent, transport, and meals. If I skip even one day of work, I won’t make it.” Despite the workload, Yung still finds time to serve as a courtroom observer — perhaps out of duty, or perhaps a habit too deeply ingrained to break. “Compared to others, I’m actually doing alright — at least I’ve got a job. That day-rate role eventually became full-time, even though the pay’s still not much. But I know friends convicted of the same charge who still can’t find full-time work — they’re surviving on odd jobs and community support.” Indeed, once employers realise a job applicant has a criminal record — especially one tied to political charges — many become more cautious, and the barriers quickly multiply. “A lot of people say that just having a job after coming out is already a blessing — that it doesn’t matter what you’re doing,” Yung said, his voice catching with emotion. “But I don’t agree...” Changing careers is a normal part of life, “but when you’ve done nothing more than the right thing — and you’re stripped of your profession, forced onto a different path — that’s something else entirely. Sometimes, it feels like I’m being quietly robbed of time, slowly and silently.” Perhaps it was the teacher in him that kept Yung speaking with such calm clarity. But at that moment, he paused. He reached for his coffee cup, fidgeting with it ever so slightly. And in that instant, a flicker crossed his eyes — a fleeting glimmer of sorrow, laced with defiance, tenderness, and a quiet sense of no regrets. At first, you might assume his frustration stems from financial strain, or the loss of a stable job. But if you truly listen, if you meet his gaze, you’ll see it for what it is: the cry of someone who came heartbreakingly close to a dream — only to have it torn away. Since 2019, many Hongkongers have lost something. For Yung, it wasn’t just the two years behind bars. It was the identity of a teacher — his calling and his dream. “My job now is just for survival. I can’t throw myself into it the way I used to. With a criminal record, it’s incredibly difficult to find work in education again — and many professions are now closed off to me,” Yung said with a weary sigh, his face lined with quiet resignation. “Still,” he added, “I hope this is just a stopover. I still dream of going back to study one day, and finding a new path I actually want to grow in.” For now, though, he’s working tirelessly just to get by — with barely enough to live on, let alone fund further education. And yet, he continues to wait — waiting for the homecoming of his next dream.

Protester: “Only by leaving can I find happiness” Many comrades have been arrested and sentenced because of their involvement in the social movement. Very often, we tell them things will be fine and they will be back on their feet again once they are out, with all the goodwill to console them. However, a fresh start is not possible for some comrades, including “Tsui Lam Estate Big Brother”. Despite enduring imprisonment, the unrelenting pursuit by the regime eventually forced him into exile. Restarting his life now feels utterly out of reach. The nickname Big Brother sounds valiant and formidable, but it actually started as a joke among the neighbours of Tsui Lam Estate. Big Brother was one of the first protesters to be formally charged at the beginning of the Anti-Extradition Bill movement, so neighbours began jokingly calling him Big Brother. Over time, the joke became part of his identity, and the name stuck—used affectionately from group chat for the local community to day-to-day interaction. Yet at the time, no one would have imagined that what lay behind the nickname would be years of unending persecution and suppression. On July 14, 2019, a major march in the New Territories escalated into clashes. Police stormed into New Town Plaza, a shopping mall in Sha Tin, during their dispersal operations. This set a precedent for law enforcement to enter private premises to assault and arrest citizens. Moreover, the incident marked the first time a police officer filed a civil lawsuit against protesters, seeking compensation for injuries sustained while on duty. That means that Big Brother unwillingly became one of the first targets of the regime’s financial persecution. With the judicial system cooperating with political prosecutions, the charge of rioting became a catch-all offence used to silence dissents. In the early stages of the trial, Big Brother had no choice but to plead guilty in a bid to get a lighter sentence. However, the persecution didn’t end with the judge’s sentence. During the more than two years behind bars, he continued to receive stacks of legal documents regarding police compensation claims. Imprisonment means that the incarcerated are cut off from their income, regardless of their familial financial commitment. For Big Brother, who had elderly parents and younger siblings to support, the emotional and financial burden was exaggerated. What crushed him further was the staggering amount that the police asked for. While the original compensation amount was estimated at just over HK$50,000 based on Labour Department standards for work injuries, it was later inflated by the police to HK$1.72 million. From the Anti-Extradition Bill movement to the era of the National Security Law, political persecution has usually been associated with criminal charges. But experiences of some beneficiaries of the Bonham Tree show that even after being released, many struggle to find jobs due to their previous participation in social movements. Big Brother's case demonstrates that persecution is not just about the sentence and years behind bars. It has evolved into a combination of legal and financial means aiming to ruin dissenters’ lives. Aside from Big Brother and his co-defendants, media reports indicate other protesters from the Anti-Extradition Bill movement are facing similar lawsuits, with compensation claims in the hundreds of thousands of HK dollars. Declaring bankruptcy would be a way out, as some might suggest, as they would be able to start anew after the four years of bankruptcy order. Unfortunately, it does not apply to Big Brother, as his case involves personal injury and the compensation is not discharged through bankruptcy. On top of that, some released comrades bear extra pressure as they are blacklisted by their previous professional fields. Big Brother declined to share more personal experiences to protect his family. He insisted that the threats were real. Previous cases show that some individuals continued to be monitored by national security authorities even after serving time. They are threatened or even have their families harassed against further political involvement. Big Brother was once interviewed by an overseas media outlet about the civic lawsuit before learning last year that the court ruled he must pay over a million Hong Kong dollars. After prolonged consideration, he decided to apply for asylum through Taiwan's Mainland Affairs Council while on a trip. He is now awaiting his special case approval. Bonham Tree Aid is able to provide urgent support to ease his financial burden as he cannot legally work while he awaits the asylum decision in Taiwan. While in Taiwan, Big Brother still feels a deep sense of injustice. However, under the current conditions, Hong Kong no longer offers a place for him; only by leaving can he find happiness. Since arriving in Taiwan, he has remained active in social movements. Due to his sensitive status, he now takes a lower profile and works behind the scenes to support others. He hopes the Taiwanese government will continue to be a model of democracy and freedom in Asia. He also wants to use his example to inform others how those in power can suppress dissents not only through physical violence but also various ways, such as legal manipulation and civil lawsuits. He hopes Taiwan will consider continuing the current immigration arrangement to support others facing non-criminal political persecution, so they too can find a safe haven. Illustration: @lumlilumlong_ Text: Vincent Vega Translation:  Kai T

KK, an Individual Providing Support for the Incarcerated: "I have to help. There's no time to be afraid." Is there a reconciliation in Hong Kong after the Anti-Extradition Bill movement? Many observers have pointed out that it is nowhere near. Even though some members of the pro-establishment camp have called for assistance for arrested youths to reintegrate into society, the relentless crackdown led by John Lee and Chris Tang’s administration means a reconciliation is not possible. Beyond carrying a criminal record that results in disqualification from their professions or failing background checks for new jobs, many comrades who were already working professionals before their imprisonment now face additional hurdles to rebuilding their careers. With nearly 3,000 protest-related cases having either been completed or are undergoing trial since the Anti-Extradition Bill movement in 2019, those who were sentenced earlier are gradually being released. However, it has become increasingly difficult for released comrades to seek assistance given the disappearance of civil society and the migration wave. Even for a handful of organisations that have the resources, it is difficult to connect with those in need in today's Hong Kong where repression has become more severe. KK, an ordinary person like us who would not catch anyone’s attention on the street, has been acting as a bridge between those in need and those who can help. Over the past few years, KK has assisted numerous comrades in applying for emergency aid from the Bonham Tree. Despite the daily risks of being targeted by the authorities, KK continues to extend a lifeline to many comrades behind bars, hoping to ease their path back into society upon release. Having handled numerous cases, KK finds that financial aid remains the most critical form of support. When the source of income is lost both during and after incarceration, it is not surprising that there is a massive economic burden shouldered by both the incarcerated and their families. "The difficulties faced after release are no less severe than those behind bars. In fact, the invisible oppression continues to surround Hongkongers who hold views opposing the government." Reports indicate that some individuals involved in politically sensitive cases have had their bank accounts frozen even after their release, making it impossible for them to open new accounts elsewhere. This situation has persisted beyond the peak of the movement and continues to this day, demonstrating that political persecution has never subsided. Unlike government officials whose hundreds of thousands of dollars of salary are not affected despite the overseas sanctions, former protesters unable to access banking services are often left with no choice but to work cash-based jobs. These jobs are mostly low-skilled, blue-collar positions that do not compare to their previous careers in teaching, IT, or other professional fields. Comrades are facing impossible choices. The Cantonese saying "When the horse dies, get off!"  suggests resilience in adversity, but those with families to support have no choice but to abandon their careers and ideals. Some may suggest that comrades move abroad for a fresh start. However, having a criminal record complicates the process of leaving Hong Kong, not to mention the emotional and family considerations of leaving a place that one calls home. According to KK, many of these comrades can only dream for circumstances to change. While the dream has not arrived, both the financial and psychological strains have intensified. Beyond long-term unemployment and obstacles in job hunting, some comrades even face difficulties withdrawing their remaining bank funds after release. The process of dealing with banks to unfreeze accounts is mentally exhausting. "I help them apply for Bonham Tree Aid while they are still incarcerated, hoping to set aside some financial buffer. That way, they won't be left completely empty-handed and helpless when they get out." Yellow Economic Circle" (businesses sympathetic to the protest movement) was once vibrant in Hong Kong during the social movement. However, this is not the case after the pandemic as the retail and food industries have suffered severe blows. Stores associated with the "Yellow Economic Circle" have disappeared in large numbers. KK laments: "The biggest impact of the disappearance of “yellow shops” is the loss of community solidarity among like-minded people."  Fortunately, KK’s friends all share similar beliefs, and many of the comrades he has helped remain in contact. This has enabled KK to continue to help former protesters who are in need of adjusting psychologically and healing from the trauma of the movement and legal battles. The worsened economy and emigration of the middle class mean that the level of attention and resources available for incarcerated comrades has significantly diminished. Whether fundraising on an individual basis or through organizations like Bonham Tree Aid, the difficulty has increased compared to two or three years ago. The wave of closures among “yellow shops” reflects Hong Kong's current economic reality. KK adds: "On the surface, society appears calm, but nothing has improved beneath the surface. There are still over 600 political prisoners behind bars—we, the people, should not forget or ignore them just a few years after the movement." Under the threat of draconian laws, even applying for financial aid from Bonham Tree Aid carries legal risks. Yet, KK continues to assist comrades, some of whom he has never met before. Why does he persist in doing it? KK simply says: "I have to help. There's no time to be afraid." The wave of protests may have receded for now, but the comrades who made enormous sacrifices still face an uncertain road ahead. In this difficult time, how do we move forward? Perhaps the best way is for each of us to contribute in our own ways, just as KK does, standing with comrades and our past selves.

(only HongKongese version is Available) 「我唔係因為2019年入去嘅。」細葉榕義工阿榕（化名）曾在香港被捕入獄，那是早於2014年的 雨傘革命，阿榕在抗爭時被捕，事隔一年才突然被起訴、入獄，當時他還未滿21歲。那時候，關注少年犯人權的電影《同囚》尚未上映，但阿榕所處的少年犯監獄中，電影中對年輕囚犯的不人道情況，卻天天在他和其他少年犯身上發生。 「覆診時我同醫生講唔夠飽，好凍，想問有無得加衫，返嚟被鬧足一星期，直到佢哋搵到新話 題。」21歲以下的少年犯，一般被判入3C，即教導所(Training Centre)、勞教中心(Detention Centre)、更生中心(Rehabilitation Centre)，這些替代監禁的判刑，並沒有比成人監獄容易，相反，有些規矩更是嚴苛。例如阿榕所處的中心，囚犯不能工作以賺錢換取零食，在用餐時也 不能「添飯」，大部份時間年輕囚犯們都處於吃不飽的狀態。冬天保暖衣物不足，阿榕身體問題 ，剛入獄時向醫生提出吃飽或加保暖衣服的問題，同行的懲教人員聽到，回到中心便大罵阿榕。 「一行出探訪室，佢就大力摑咗我一巴。」懲教人員對少年犯的言語侮辱、甚至動手也是家常便 飯。少年犯在進入3C時，要填寫探訪名單，但首次訪客只能是父母，之後視乎表現才能加入其 他探訪者。阿榕自小跟公公婆婆長大，與父親關係疏離，不想填父母，已被懲教人員即場拍臉 警告，到母親第一次來探望，剛入獄不久的阿榕不知天高地厚地訴說自己在裏面的慘況，結果 一離開便捱了一巴掌，被怒聲質問「我宜家對你好差咩？！」阿榕那時候才明白，無論面對懲教人員、家人朋友，還是醫護人員，他都要像對太平紳士一樣，背頌那段「我喺呢度生活得好好，我已經改過自身」的對白，才能平安渡日。此外，懲教人員亦鼓吹犯人之間的惡言相向，剛進去的少年犯會被配以一名「師傅」，即在獄中較長時間的犯人，教新犯規矩、日常步操和磨鞋等，指導期間，「師傅」亦必須以粗口或難聽說話責罵新人，否則「師傅」亦會受責。 「我要喺佢面前踎低小便，疴唔出都會被人鬧。」很多人都聽說過犯人最初入獄時要被全身檢查，但其實每次見外人之後，少年犯都要接受檢查，阿榕所處的監獄沒有X光機，身體問題要經常外出見醫生的他，每次回來都要脫衣、人手「通櫃」檢查。即使只是在獄中見訪客或心理醫生，翌日也要留尿驗毒，懲教人員聲稱為確保尿液屬於犯人，要求犯人在人前小便，若不能按要求做到，又要被罵。為此，阿榕每次都要在留尿前強忍着不敢去廁所。 「喺裏面無晒尊嚴。」被無理打罵，在人前裸露、小便、通櫃，甚至被要求以雙手洗廁所馬桶，進入這些以「更新」「教導」為名的監獄，年輕人便失去了作為人的尊嚴。3C有對少年犯拘禁的期限，由4個月至數年不等，表面上是「視乎表現」而定，但實際上，幾乎每一個犯人都會「打爆」， 被拘禁到最長限期。阿榕好不容易捱到期，但原來一切還未結束⋯⋯（待續） 故事整理及插圖 @WL.AandD *最近，前眾志副秘書長周庭拍片講述她在獄中的種種經歷，令大家再次關注香港囚犯、尤其政治犯的權益。隨着國安法、23條的成立，越來越多因為參與公民運動，甚至僅是行使言論自由權利的香港人將跌入被扭曲的法網，這些手足同樣需要大家的關注和支持。 **「細葉榕人道支援基金」向被判政治冤獄的在囚人士家庭發放每月£380（約HKD3,800）的人道支援，以緩解手足家庭的壓力。自2021年10月成立至今，共發放超過£1,100,000協助了逾 200個家庭，目前尚有逾100輪候個案家庭急待支援。 立即捐款，支援手足!

(only HongKongese version is Available) 上集提要：細葉榕義工阿榕（化名）因為雨傘革命的抗爭而入獄，在少年監獄經歷長期吃不飽、穿不暖，失去尊嚴的日子，好不容易捱到限期可以離開，卻發現事件還遠沒有完結。 「出返嚟唔可以讀書，只可以返工。」香港少年犯一般被判入3C，原意是以「更新」「教導」的方式，協助年輕囚犯重新融入社會，所以在獄中會有一些「幫助」犯人的活動，例如上課或學習技能，然而阿榕在獄中上的課，永遠都是中三程度，犯人只需要將答案抄寫一次，便當上課；至於技能學習，也是所有人學一樣的技能，而且證書上印着「懲教署」，對出獄後求學或就業毫無幫助。加上少年犯在出獄後仍受監管令所管制，期間懲敎人員若不滿其表現，可以召回。阿榕入獄前是大專生，但在監管期間卻只能按規定找工作，不可以繼續學業。 「嗰日去見心理學家，見到一架懲教車經過，我就Panic發作，企喺度兩個鐘郁唔到。」監管尚且有限期，心理創傷卻不知何時才能復原。阿榕在獄中健康受創、尊嚴受創，情緒健康也嚴重受傷，抑鬱症、驚恐症等，出獄後即使接受輔導、藥物治療，生活、上班仍然勉強，隨便在街上看見囚車，便足以令阿榕呆在當下。那時候的阿榕，努力令自己生活如常，但現在回頭再望，他並不曾走出入獄的創傷，他不欲向人提起獄中經歷，生活中也會無故暴躁「周圍鬧人」，連在社交圈子中認識懲教職員也會無緣無故的痛恨。 「2019年我喺抗爭現場被橡膠子彈打中。」即使創傷未癒，阿榕仍然在2019年甘冒再次被捕的風險繼續走上前線，參與抗爭，結果因此而受傷，仍然無怨無悔。直到2020年國安法成立，阿榕曾被警察記下資料，被控風險極高，才下定決心離開香港。 「來到呢邊，我先真正踏上醫治嘅路途。」離開香港前，社交圈子中的懲教朋友代同僚向阿榕道歉，並替阿榕丟棄象徵獄中生活的舊物，阿榕才終於覺得自己可以放下獄中傷痛。來到外國，再得到同樣移居當地的香港資深輔導員輔導，阿榕才慢慢重拾自己的生活，開始可以講述當年的經歷，也開始參與細葉榕人道支援基金的義務工作。 「細葉榕有幫過我識嘅人，佢哋捐款個平台又安全，我留意咗一段時間，知道佢哋係真心幫咗坐監嘅人同家人。」剛到外國，阿榕刻意避開當地港人，「唔想麻煩」，但現在，他走出獄中身心受創的陰霾，積極開展新生活，更考取專業資格，做到他一直想做、但在香港未能做的工作。對阿榕而言，好好生活，才是離散港人最好地講述自己故事的途徑。 故事整理及插圖 @WL.AandD *最近，前眾志副秘書長周庭拍片講述她在獄中的種種經歷，令大家再次關注香港囚犯、尤其政治犯的權益。隨着國安法、23條的成立，越來越多因為參與公民運動，甚至僅是行使言論自由權利的香港人將跌入被扭曲的法網，這些手足同樣需要大家的關注和支持。 **細葉榕人道支援基金自2021年10月營運至今，共協助超過200位政治犯。現時每月需要£42,560為112位手足提供£380（約HKD3,800）人道支援，還有超過100個個案等待支援。 立即捐款，支援手足！

(only HongKongese version is Available) 「我會話來自香港，但唔會話自己係香港人。」細葉榕義工、藝術家Ricker Choi在香港出生，隨家人移民加拿大多倫多時，只有13歲，和很多當地香港學生一樣，聽廣東歌、看港產片、吃港式點心，喜歡香港文化，卻沒什麼作為香港人的身份認同，回想小時候在香港，也只視香港為居住地。 「小時候返大陸，我媽媽警告我唔可以亂講嘢，會被警察拉。」8964尚未發生，Ricker Choi已經從家人聽到很多關於中共的恐怖事件，大躍進、文革、販賣器官等等，令他對中共充滿仇恨，香港主權移交，他也覺得香港只會淪為一個普通的中國城市。直到2019年，Ricker Choi從新聞看到百萬計香港人走上街頭反抗獨裁政權，他深受感動，亦感到「香港終於有希望了！」 「當我嘅作品開始出現喺世界各地嘅展覽同活動上，我已經同香港人深深連結。」2019年抗爭的觸動，將香港和Ricker連結在一起，他開始為「香港人」身份而自豪。兄弟爬山各自努力，身在遠方的Ricker，選擇以他最擅長的繪畫和音樂創作中紓發情緒，令他覺得自己正與香港人同行。他花了四個月創作了13分鐘的鋼琴獨奏曲《香港狂想曲》去描繪香港的抗爭。這些藝術創作，作品讓世界對香港人的抗爭產生共鳴，同時，也讓Ricker Choi找到自己的身份和角色。2022年，《文匯報》將Ricker Choi列為「分裂分子」「違反國安法」，令他無法再進入香港，卻令Ricker Choi進一步確立自己的香港人身份，因為他明白自己的創作有效「威脅」中共，他決心繼續在這條路上走下去。 「經常有人問我『光復香港』嘅意思，我都會話，作為藝術家、音樂家，光復香港就係我可以喺展出 / 演出我嘅抗爭作品，唔使驚被拘捕。」Ricker Choi曾經以為身在海外，作品會與香港社會越走越遠。但隨着近年移民潮，Ricker Choi不時會聽到新移加的香港人感謝海外創作人替香港人說出他們在香港不能說的。2023年的六四紀念活動上，剛離開香港的香港人熱淚盈眶，為可以展出抗爭畫作及點燃悼念燭光而感動，這些在香港現已成為禁忌。 「我希望幫助香港政治犯，佢哋為民主運動嘅犧牲，係唔可以被忘記。」除了在世界各地展出創作，Ricker Choi亦以創作籌款，支持香港民主的相關組織，特別是「細葉榕人道支援基金」。自從國安法通過後，很多組織都被凍結資產，而細葉榕是少數仍然支援在手足的組織，Ricker Choi盡其所能的參與，由持續寫信給囚友，到拍賣自己的畫作或將畫作製成明信片義賣，甚至舉行籌款音樂會，Ricker Choi逐漸成為細葉榕重要的義工常客。無論是為細葉榕籌款，還是與在囚手足成為筆友，以藝術互相支持，Ricker Choi自覺都是微薄的付出，但對受助者而言，卻是他們最脆弱時的重要支持。 「我有責任用我嘅藝術同音樂繼續為香港發聲。」隨着國安法及23條的成立，留下來的人無可避免地政治參與度會越來越低，家長們為了「保護」孩子，甚至不會向孩子講述真正的歷史，這是完全可以理解。因此，Ricker Choi認為，身在海外的香港人，有責任繼續為香港發聲，雖然海外港人在留港的人差距將會越來越大，大家所追求的目標可能會越來越不一樣，但Ricker Choi仍然堅信自己作為「香港人」的責任，就是持續以自己的能力，向世界揭示香港的情況，為「光復香港而努力」。 故事整理及插圖 @WL.AandD @ricker_choi 將於11月2日在多倫多舉行大型演奏會，以音樂訴說香港人的故事，同時為已為細葉榕人道支援基金籌款將近£30,000。 **「細葉榕人道支援基金」向有需要的抗爭在囚人士家庭發放每月£380（約HKD3,800）的人道支援，以緩解手足家庭的壓力。自2021年10月成立至今，共發放超過港幣一千二百萬，協助了超過200位政治犯及其家庭，目前尚有113個輪候個案急待支援。 立即捐款，支援手足！

(only HongKongese version is Available) 「最初一定唔夠食，後來做嘢就可以買吓零食。」細葉榕受助人阿細（化名）因為2019年參與抗爭被捕，當時尚未成年，因而被判入了俗稱3C的少年監獄。少年監獄的日子吃不飽、穿不暖、受到懲教人員言語和身體的侮辱、「前輩」囚友的欺凌等等，很多過來人、傳媒、電影提及的情節，阿細全部都經歷過。然而，重提這段經歷，阿細都只是輕描淡寫地一筆帶過，不欲多談。 「佢哋只係無聊姐。」在獄中，阿細遇過不少互相比較的囚友、欺凌者或狐假虎威的前輩，對他而言，他們只是嘗試在被囚困的苦悶中，靠着一丁點的權力，爭取略多一點的資源，維護被踐踏了不少的自尊。阿細既不怕他們，也不與他們同流合污，他不想浪費時間在這些無聊事。 「喺裏面無咩做，咪讀書囉！」抗爭前，阿細與很多同齡的年輕人一樣愛玩，讀書只是必盡的義務，不太知道自己為什麼要讀，也不知道想要怎樣的未來。入獄後，他反而花更多時間讀書。最初只是不想參與其他囚友的無聊是非或紛爭，後來卻慢慢成為習慣，甚至發覺自己原來也很喜歡讀書。 「我試下報，學校又肯收喎，緊係讀啦！」自小成績不算好，阿細從來不敢奢想可以成為大學生。入獄期間學習成為習慣，出獄後，阿細決定繼續進修，並嘗試報考大專院校，本來擔心自己的成績和曾入獄的經歷會被院校拒絕，幸好最後獲得心儀學科取錄，成為了大學生。 「之前被人幫，宜家咪幫返人。」阿細的入獄，對家人造成不少衝擊，各種開支亦令家庭負擔百上加斤，家人於是向細葉榕人道支援基金申請援助。如今，就讀大專院校的阿細，在課餘也積極參與細葉榕的義工服務。雖然阿細沒有被獄中的經歷打沉，反而更積極上進，但他在獄中亦見過不少本來年輕有為的政治犯，無法承受打擊和身心摧殘，他希望細葉榕的援助，能鼓勵這些囚友，讓他們知道石牆外尚有很多人記掛着他們。 故事改編及插畫 @wl.aandd *故事綜合不同個案改編而成。 **根據在美港人組織「香港民主委員會」 @ hkdc.us 報告指出，截至2022年中，因為2019年抗爭運動而被捕檢控的超過1000人，其中15%是未成年人士，亦有很多經歷以年計的未審先囚，年輕抗爭者被迫中斷學業、在獄中受到身心創傷的情況比比皆是。隨着國安法及《基本法》23條立法，未來的年輕政治犯恐怕有增無減。 ***「細葉榕人道支援基金」向有需要的抗爭在囚人士家庭發放每月£380（約HKD$3800）的人道支援，以緩解手足家庭的壓力。自2021年10月成立至今，共發放£1,296,780，協助了267個家庭，目前尚有110個輪候家急待支援。 立即捐款，支援手足！

經歷過去幾年大變後，樓價、股市升跌、McGriddles風魔全城等議題，佔據輿論焦點。香港社會表面回歸正常，背後卻是社會運動與被捕手足所獲關注隨之大減。每每有關於社運討論，留言定當出現「手足已被遺棄」大潑冷水。 儘管繼續撐住手足的呼籲不絕於耳，但撫心自問，大家又是否真的忘記了正在受刑的同伴們？ 在囚權、支援機構一個個因各種緣由被迫結束運作，有心人奔波亦難免有時灰心悲觀，接觸手足們的難度亦日增。當囚權組織石牆花在2021年宣告停運，連帶先前被全面攔截的「解悶工廠」新聞整合，牆內資訊流通一度現出巨大空白。作為寫信師一員「阿曦」眼見手足書信配對真空，於是行多一步由自身網絡延伸，頂替部份書信配對服務，一直至今。 四年時間，可以是DSE考生一段應考旅程，可以讓人在異地開展新生活。對於阿曦，四年是投身職場身份置換的階段，也見證着社會對被捕手足關注轉變。自寫信師隨社運應運而生後，「寫嚟有咩用」的問題一直在問，有人為支持同路人視筆耕為日常習作，有人旨在搞搞笑為同伴解悶，也有人單單為着陪伴。 作為筆友配對幕後運作一員，阿曦對陪伴有更深一層理解。阿曦形容，與牆內朋友當起筆友，起初感覺就像交網友，大家素未謀面反而更易展現真實一面，將心底一些難以向親友轉述的感受交托。尤其入獄期間狀態少不免有起伏，這種距離剛好能夠接住對方負面情緒，讓手足好好釋放不安，如足球比賽中，場上的人多行一步，好好補位。 除了在字裡行間填補陪伴手足的空缺，牆外照顧者的需要時常被忽視，補位的意義也同樣體現於協助手足照顧家屬。將陪伴的行動推進一步，大時大節代牆內手足為親人送上小禮物，希望縮減高牆兩邊的距離，帶來丁點安慰。 阿曦說，不少家屬們會將無處投放的情感投射到他們身上。實務以外，這群補位在牆外可以做的，就是承接着這些噓寒問暖，笑道有時會覺得自己是「part time仔女」。與相熟手足家屬們過時過節見面聚會外，WhatsApp上互相問候，也短暫填補了他們摯親不在身邊的空位。 對於一眾仍在面對審訊、服刑的手足與家屬，能夠為牆內人保持書信來往，為悶熱的牢房帶來鮮風，一眾寫信師肩負重擔，尤其政權審查標準無處捉摸，牆內外書信流通挑戰更高。阿曦稱，現時寄出信件前無可避免有一重過濾步驟，首要考慮固然是保障雙方安全，有些說話就留在心中。不過，在從未言明的紅線下，亦不希望過份自我審查，向恐懼屈服。 與海外有成熟體系支援相比，香港在囚支援起步稍遲，跟手足做筆友終歸仍屬新鮮事，人人都在摸索中。阿曦稱，篩選另一目的，是避免有信件內容刺激甚至傷害到手足。儘管言者無心，亦無謂加劇牆內人負擔。 寫信網絡運作接近四年，近期招筆友進度明顯較開初放緩。筆友配對過程其中一個難關，是雙方「嘴形唔夾」。阿曦講到，策略無非先由自我介紹、輕鬆話題開始，摸清楚筆友興趣後再投其所好。然而，筆友亦要講緣份，書信往來三兩次後便停止的個案不在少數，關鍵始終在於要有更多人積極參與。 不少寫信師反映，有時寫信給牆內人後一直未有回音，久而久之便停下聯絡，並有灰心之意。阿曦慨嘆，有時並非手足有心已讀不回，而是懲教署不時以違反監獄規矩為由，隨機抽起信件。相比成人監獄，少年懲教所出現上述情況尤為常見，也導致少年手足配對筆友難度再增。 數以十萬人三年間先後離開香港，「由治及興」是否屬實肉眼可見。問到移民潮對在囚支援造成什麼影響時，阿曦表示「只要有心，距離唔一定有咁大影響」，實質影響未如外界渲染。有已經移民的寫信師，繼續越洋與手足當筆友，直至對方放學。 然而，阿曦觀察到不止近期徵筆友反應變淡，到庭聽審等支援活動的活躍程度亦有所減少。回到問題根本，也是涉及大眾關注降低。阿曦希望更多人明白，只要有人在旁同行，即使只能做到單單傾聽，也能讓痛苦的時間過得更快，不希望再有人被遺下。 插畫 @wl.aandd 文：Vincent Vega *「香港民主委員會」 @ hkdc.us 報告指出，截至2022年中，因為2019年抗爭運動而被捕檢控的超過1000人，其中15%是未成年人士，經歷以年計的未審先囚，年輕抗爭者被迫中斷學業、在獄中受到身心創傷的情況比比皆是。 **「細葉榕人道支援基金」向有需要的抗爭在囚人士家庭發放每月£380（約HKD$3800）的人道支援，以緩解手足家庭的壓力。自2021年10月成立至今，共發放超過1,300萬港元，協助近300個家庭，目前尚有約110個輪候家急待支援。 立即捐款，支援手足！