At the start of their new show The Grand Tour Jeremy Clarkson and his two stooges brought back to the public consciousness this awesome song, I Can See Clearly Now. This 1990 cover by Hothouse Flowers has always been superior to the version by Johnny Nash because, quite simply, it is easier to distinguish a male voice to the song.
It's also a broody, tentative, self-emergence kind of song that breaks out and 'flowers' beautifully, leaving the listener with that sense of optimism and energy.
Clora Kwok Man-ling, case no 3306 of 2016, Notice of General Meeting of Creditors in the High Court of the HKSAR Court of First Instance in Bankruptcy Proceedings, Hong Kong (26 August 2016)
Note: Clora is an alternate spelling of Clorinda (Latin).
Germain Wan Ho-yin, case no 3347 of 2016, Notice of General Meeting of Creditors in the High Court of the HKSAR Court of First Instance in Bankruptcy Proceedings, Hong Kong (26 August 2016)
Connor Choi Kwan-ho, case no 3114 of 2016, Notice of General Meeting of Creditors in the High Court of the HKSAR Court of First Instance in Bankruptcy Proceedings, Hong Kong (26 August 2016)
Libbie Leung Yim-hung, case no 2061 of 2016, Notice of General Meeting of Creditors in the High Court of the HKSAR Court of First Instance in Bankruptcy Proceedings, Hong Kong (26 August 2016)
Susana Wong Suk-kuen, case no 2437 of 2016, Notice of General Meeting of Creditors in the High Court of the HKSAR Court of First Instance in Bankruptcy Proceedings, Hong Kong (26 August 2016)
What’s the story behind your English name?:
Hydie is originally a French boy’s name. It is pronounced as ‘hei di’,
very similar to my Chinese name. My parents felt it was special so they
chose it for name. I use it on my Hong Kong ID card.
Josephia Feng Jing, 26, banker at Deutsche Bank, Hong Kong
A recent Hongkonger from mainland China.
Name: Josephia Feng Jing
Chinese name: 冯静
Age: 26
Profession: banker at Deutsche Bank
What’s the story behind your English name?:
I got my name Josephia from my first English teacher – a 70-year-old
from Mississippi, America. He thought it should start with the same
letter as my given Chinese name, which is Jing, so he thought of
Josephia. I was growing up in Wuxi, eastern China, aged about seven or
eight when he gave me my name.
This is a nice little article by Rachel Blundy looking at why Hong Kong people have novel or weird names. This blog has previously ventured some reasons why there appears to be more novel names used in Hong Kong than in any other place in the world where English names are adopted.
We hear from Money, Curtis, Hydie and Josephia, who tell us how they got their strange names (although "Curtis" is not a weird name!). Also glad to see this journalist authenticates many of these names and qualifies them as real people (just like this blog does by only accepting names that come from credible sources). Well done Blundy!
Soufflé, Arial, Focus, Hippo and
Kinky. They might sound like the members of an avant-garde electro-pop
band, but in fact they are just some of the more unusual names that
Hongkongers are going by in 2016.
So why are quirky names so popular in
Hong Kong and how do we explain their evolution? Post-colonial British
influences mean most Hongkongers have an English name that they commonly
use at work or amongst friends, while at home they will often answer to
their Chinese name or nickname.
The tradition seems to vary according
to a person’s class. Upper-class and Western-educated parents typically
give their children English names at birth or soon after. Some Chinese
parents pay feng shui masters up to HK$25,000 to come up with an
original name for their child based on factors such as the time of their
birth and characteristics they want their kids to have later in life.
Feng shui dates as far back as 4000 BC in China. It remained popular in
Hong Kong and Taiwan in the 1960s while being pushed out of China during
the Cultural Revolution. It has since regained popularity in Hong Kong.
It is sometimes used to choose a new name for a child later in life if a
family believes they are suffering from cosmic problems, i.e. bad luck.
Louis Wong, a third generation
feng shui practitioner at Sky Fortune in Causeway Bay, says he provides
parents with up to 30 names to choose from for their child. He compiles
the shortlist by trying to create what he describes as “balanced” names
using the five Chinese Taoist elements (fire, earth, metal, water and
wood); the number of strokes in a child’s written Chinese name and the
pronunciation of each Chinese character. “Most of our customers are
quite satisfied with these 30 names because they have a lot to choose
from. I also show them the name selection method.
Sometimes parents have
quite different ideas on what to use – such as including the concept of
the sky – but we tell them it is not a stable name choice in Chinese
culture. We give them our advice and if they insist on using their own
name then that is their decision,” he says.
“People in Hong Kong are trying to
assert their individuality. It is a bit like when you choose clothes -
you are making a statement of sorts.” Joseph Bosco, associate professor
of cultural anthropology at the Chinese University
In contrast, working-class children may
be given a name later out of necessity at school. They might choose
their own name or be given one by their teacher. This might be one
reason why some children have ended up with rather arbitrary names, such
as Rainbow.
But there’s no hard and fast rule for
how Hongkongers acquire their English name, as SCMP journalist and
Hongkonger Laura Ma explains: “I was named after Laura Ingalls Wilder,
the American author who wrote ‘Little House on the Prairie’, because I
liked it as a child, but I wasn’t given that name until I was eight
years old - about six months after I moved to Canada. I’d already been
registered as Yan-yi at school, so I continued using this name while I
lived in Canada. It wasn’t until I moved back to Hong Kong almost four
years ago that by chance ‘Laura’ became my name after I included it as
my middle name on my Hong Kong University journalism masters
registration.”
Meanwhile, at home, some Hongkongers
might go by a name which denotes their position in a family. “In a
Chinese household, my parents never used my English or Chinese name
anyway since we refer to each other by our relation,” Ma says. “Being
the eldest, my parents just called me ‘big sister’ (in Chinese) and only
used my full Chinese name when I was in trouble.”
For some, a less conventional name is
undoubtedly a way of marking themselves out from the crowd. Young
Hongkongers in particular seem to be embracing the freedom to take on a
new persona through their adopted English name.
Joseph Bosco at Chinese University
thinks these names demonstrate Hongkongers expressing their uniqueness,
rather than them making a post-colonial political statement.
“It is a bit like when you choose
clothes,” he says. “You are making a statement of sorts – but it is not a
political one, at least not a conscious one. People in Hong Kong are
trying to assert their individuality. A lot of Chinese people want to
make their name sound different – a lot of them have similar surnames
too so it becomes more necessary to have a different first name. And
many Chinese students do not feel there is a problem with changing
certain letters in a name.”
But unlike in the US and UK, where
weird and wonderful names are given to children by their often
pretentious parents, Hong Kong names are being concocted by the children
themselves.
“My students sometimes ask me why
I have such a boring name,” says John Carroll, professor of Hong Kong
history at Hong Kong University. “I think people want names that are
unusual. People want to differentiate themselves. They can be creative
with their names – but they’re not often on their Hong Kong ID cards,
which can be confusing when they enroll here.”
Some Hongkongers even decide to change
their adopted English names later in life, just because they feel like
it. Professor Carroll says: “When I arrived here in the 1960s, I noticed
people had unusual names and I had friends who would just change them –
I knew a Dickie who changed his name to Norbert and a Stephen who
substituted the ‘S’ in his name with a ‘Z’.”
This somewhat playful approach to the
naming process extends to using English nouns which would never
traditionally be adopted as names in Western cultures. “Cola”, “Fish”
and “Orange” are just some recent examples of this in Hong Kong’s
schools. The trend suggests children are simply choosing objects they
identify with or words they like the sound of when selecting their name.
But again, unlike when Western parents deliberately select alternative
names in order to be perceived as “edgy” (Chris Martin and Gwyneth
Paltrow’s decision to call their daughter “Apple” springs to mind),
young Hongkongers on the whole seem to choose these names in an
unassuming way.
Whilst this desire for uniqueness might
not be a new phenomenon, there are certainly some names, such as
iPhone, which have only come into usage since the turn of the 21st
century.
Bosco further attributes this to Hongkongers striving for individuality.
“This shows the cultural meanings of
names can be very different in different cultural contexts. In a sense
people here are following Chinese rule, but they want an English name
which marks them out as unique,” he says.
Four Hongkongers tell us how they got their names
English name: Money Chin
Chinese name: 錢梓峰
Age: 23
Profession/university: Insurance agent
What’s the story behind your English name?:
I chose my name because my surname in Chinese means ‘money’ – so
together it translates as ‘Money Money’. I think by using an unusual
English name, it’s more likely we’ll be remembered by people when we
first meet them. It makes us unique and special - which is how most
Hongkongers want to be thought of in their daily life.
English name: Curtis Li
Chinese name: 李政澔
Age: 20
Profession/Education: Student at New York University
What’s the story behind your English name?: Curtis comes from the word ‘courteous’. It is also a soft rhyme with my dad’s name, Ernest.
English name: Hydie Chan
Chinese name: 陳晞
Age: 31
Profession/Education: Primary school teacher
What’s the story behind your English name?:
Hydie is originally a French boy’s name. It is pronounced as ‘hei di’,
very similar to my Chinese name. My parents felt it was special so they
chose it for name. I use it on my Hong Kong ID card.
Name: Josephia Feng Jing
Chinese name: 冯静
Age: 26
Profession: banker at Deutsche Bank
What’s the story behind your English name?:
I got my name Josephia from my first English teacher – a 70-year-old
from Mississippi, America. He thought it should start with the same
letter as my given Chinese name, which is Jing, so he thought of
Josephia. I was growing up in Wuxi, eastern China, aged about seven or
eight when he gave me my name.
Although not novel and about family names (surnames, from an English perspective), this is nevertheless an interesting article about the origins of some common Chinese names.
With more than
4,700 Chinese family names in use today, find out how the Chan in Jackie
Chan dates back to 1046BC and why Bruce Lee owes his name to a plum
tree
“What is your name?”
ought to be a straightforward question but, for many Chinese, it is
often accompanied by self-conscious explanations, repeated corrections
and, finally, resigned capitulation (“Just call me John!”). Even in Hong
Kong, where Han Chinese form the overwhelming majority, many
non-Chinese residents find Chinese names “difficult” – although, in
fairness, the fault is not entirely theirs.
The modern naming
convention is actually quite simple: the family name is placed in front
of the given name. For example, the name of the chief executive of Hong
Kong, “Leung Chun-ying”, written as “梁振英” in Chinese, is standard, with the family name “Leung” (梁) placed in front of the given name, “Chun-ying” (振英).
Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Yi.
All would be well if all
romanised Chinese names followed this format, but that is not the case.
Romanised family names are placed in all manner of positions. They may
be rendered in the form of a Western “last name” because the person has
taken on or been given a non-Chinese, usually Western, name in addition
to his Chinese one, e.g. Peter Wong; or he may choose to go by his
initials, which usually involves placing his surname last, e.g. C.Y.
Leung. In the case of the hybridised Western-Chinese name John Tsang
Chun-wah, the surname is the second word (“Tsang”).
Vicki Zhao, actress and singer.
It
becomes even more confusing in the case of married women taking on
their husband’s family name in addition to their own, e.g. Carrie Lam
Cheng Yuet-ngor, where “Lam” is her husband’s surname and “Cheng” is her
maiden name. The practice of capitalising all the letters of the
surname, e.g. John TSANG Chun-wah, has not really caught on outside
legal and government circles, perhaps because it looks ugly in print.
While one’s family name can
be placed in front, at the back or somewhere in between in romanised
form, in Chinese it always precedes the given name. Hence, while the
chief executive can either be “Leung Chun-ying” or “C.Y. Leung” in
English-language press reports, in Chinese he will always be “梁振英”, never “振英梁”.
As in most patrilineal societies, the Chinese
family name is passed down from father to child. A son will pass the
same name to his children but a daughter will not: her children will
take her husband’s family name.
The late Momofuku Ando, born Wu Baifu, Taiwanese-Japanese inventor of instant noodles.
The very first Chinese
family names, however, might have originated in a matrilineal society.
Many of these earliest clan names, known as xing, contain the ideograph for “woman” (女), such as Ji (姬), Ying (嬴), Yao (姚), Jiang ( 姜
) and so on, which are probably representative of an era between 5,000
and 6,000 years ago, when people knew who their mother was but would
have been less sure of their father’s identity. The word xing (姓) is made up of two ideographs that read “born of a woman”, and a person’s xing name placed them within a kinship group that forbade marriage between its members.
The appearance of another kinship indicator, the shi (氏),
was first recorded in the Zhou dynasty (1046–256BC), by which time
Chinese society had become firmly patrilineal and social organisation
much more complex. The shi name was essentially a subset of the xing name, and individuals might have taken one because they desired greater differentiation among themselves.
For example, imagine a noble family with Ji as their xing
name and who had been conferred a few castles and the surrounding lands
by their king. Their domain was, say, the state of Zheng. In time, the
descendants of this noble family would have taken on the name “Zheng” as
their shi name to differentiate themselves from other Ji
families, elsewhere. So, a member from this family with the given name,
say, Boya, would have been identified thus: “Boya, with the xing Ji and the shi Zheng”, followed by a string of aliases such as style names, courtesy names and the like.
Actress Michelle Yeoh.
Over generations, the descendants of this Boya might have dropped or even forgotten their xing name (Ji) and begun using their shi name (Zheng) exclusively. Some descendants might also have changed their shi names to reflect new circumstances, such as migration or acquisition of a prominent title by one of their own.
And then there were commoners without xing names but who took on shi names that identified where they lived, what they did for a living and so on. It was all very confusing!
Fortunately, when the first
emperor of the Qin dynasty unified China into a centralised empire in
221BC, his administration standardised many aspects of everyday life,
including names. The xing and shi names, which by then
had become interchangeable in practical terms, were formally merged
into the single concept of the family name.
Chinese director Zhang Yimou.
By the Western and Eastern
Han dynasties (206BC-AD220), which followed the Qin, the naming
convention had become stable, with almost every individual sporting a
well-established family name followed by a given name, a style that
remains the norm. Nevertheless, throughout the imperial period, many
people, especially members of the elite, took on or were referred to by
aliases in addition to their name, but this practice was dropped in the
early 20th century.
Today, there are more than
4,700 Chinese family names in use – not including variants – and,
according to a 2007 census by the Ministry of Public Security, the most
common in the mainland is Wang (王), of whom there are a whopping 93 million. The next most common family names are: Li (李), Zhang (張), Liu (劉), Chen (陳), Yang (楊), Huang (黃), Zhao (趙), Zhou (周) and Wu (吳).
Even if the Chinese family names in Taiwan, Hong Kong, Macau and the
rest of the world are included, the top 10 surnames remain unchanged.
About 40 per cent of the world’s Chinese answer to one of these names.
The late Zhou Enlai, premier of China
FAMILY NAMES, AND
the kinship ties they embody, have a special place in the Chinese
psyche. In many immigrant Chinese communities there exist mutual-help
associations whose main membership criterion is the possession of a
specific family name, regardless of where one’s home province or
village was in China. Although less so these days, people with the same
family name articulate a connection with each other by saying their
ancestors belonged to “the same family 500 years ago”. Indeed, centuries
of meticulous record-keeping has enabled people to trace their
forebears back many generations, and the study of these genealogies and
other historical texts by scholars has given us the origins and
histories of most Chinese family names.
The late Lee Kuan Yew, first prime minister of Singapore
The
origins can be classified under several categories, the biggest of
which is geographical location. Family names in this category came about
when a group of people adopted the name of their place of settlement as
their kinship indicator. The next two categories involve eminent
forefathers: these names were either extracted from ancestors’ names and
posthumous titles, or indicate their rank and official position. There
are also family names that denote the occupations of craftsmen and
artisans. In some cases, rulers conferred their own, royal surnames on
their subjects and non-Han peoples as a favour or reward.
The above categories
encompass the majority of Chinese family names, but they are by no means
exhaustive or mutually exclusive. Given the sheer size and population
of the Chinese nation over several millennia, the same family name might
have originated with different people at different places and times, as
demonstrated in the stories that follow.
Taiwanese-American singer Wang Leehom.
The brief accounts are
abridged versions of the complex origins of the most common names, and
many of the stories are just that. Written in historical texts but not
independently verifiable, some of the alleged ancestors might not have
even existed. Read them as one would legends or conjectures.
The default romanisation
for the names follows the Hanyu Pinyin system, and the most common
Cantonese romanised forms found in Hong Kong are also given. Note that
ethnic Chinese outside the Greater China region, such as those in
Singapore, Malaysia and North America, have their own romanised names.
For example, Huang (黃) can be Wong, Ng, Ung, Wee, Ooi, Oei, Hwang, Hoang and so on.
王 Putonghua: Wang Cantonese: Wong, not to be confused with the other Wong (黃)
Wong Kar-wai.
Origins:
Wang means “king” and royal connections are very much in evidence in
the stories of the surname’s origins. Prince Jin, the oldest son of King
Ling of the Zhou dynasty (died 545BC), was demoted to a commoner for
being critical when advising his father. Given their royal antecedents,
the former prince’s descendants were referred to as “the king’s family” (wang jia) and “Wang” became their shi
name. Other descendants of the royal family of the 800-year-long Zhou
dynasty took on the kingly Wang as their family names at various times.
Also, due to intermarriage, or the desire to assimilate or form
alliances with the Chinese empire, non-Han peoples, such as the Xiongnu,
Koreans, Khitans, Mongols and Manchus, gave themselves the surname Wang
at various times in history.
Famous Wangs: Wang Yi (王毅), foreign minister of China; Wong Kar-wai (王家衛), film director; Wang Leehom (王力宏), Taiwanese-American singer.
李 Putonghua: Li Cantonese:Li, Lee
Bruce Lee.
Origins: during the reign of the legendary King Yao, the minister of justice (da li, “大理”) was an individual called Gao Yao. His descendants inherited the position and took Li (理) as their shi
name. During the late Shang dynasty, one of Gao’s descendants, Li
Zheng, angered the king, who had him executed. During their flight from
the capital, Li’s wife and their infant son ate the fruit of a plum tree
when they had run out of food. When they were finally safe from danger,
Li’s wife changed her son’s name from “理” to the identical sounding “李”
(“plum”) in gratitude for the life-giving sustenance of the plum tree,
but, more importantly, to hide him from the king’s wrath. This was how
the family name Li came into being. One of the reasons Li became such a
common name was because, during the Tang dynasty (618-907), emperors had
the propensity to confer the imperial surname Li on many of their
subjects as reward for services rendered to the throne. This largesse
extended to foreigners such as Arabs, Persians, Jews and Koreans who
settled in China.
Famous Lis: the late Lee Kuan Yew (李光耀), first prime minister of Singapore; Li Ka-shing (李嘉誠), property magnate; the late Bruce Lee (李小龍), international film star.
張 Putonghua: Zhang Cantonese:Cheung
Zhang Dejiang.
Origins:
this name can be traced all the way back to the Yellow Emperor, the
mythical founder of the Chinese nation. Inspired by his observations of
the stars in the night sky, Hui, a grandson of the Yellow Emperor,
invented the bow, which greatly facilitated hunting. His grandfather put
him in charge of manufacturing bows and arrows, and gave him the title
bow master (gong zhang, 弓長). Hui’s descendants combined the two characters of the title to form their shi name, Zhang (張). Another major branch of the Zhang family name originated much later, during the Zhou dynasty. The descendants of Xie Zhang (解張), a senior official in the state of Jin, took the second character of their ancestor’s name and made it their family name.
Famous Zhangs:Zhang Dejiang (張德江),
chairman of the Standing Committee of the National People’s Congress
and top official responsible for Hong Kong and Macau affairs; Zhang
Yimou (張藝謀), film director; the late Leslie Cheung Kwok-wing (張國榮), Canto-pop star.
Canto-pop idol Leslie Cheung.
劉 Putonghua: Liu Cantonese:Lau
Lau Luen-hung.
Origins: here be dragons. During the latter years of the Xia dynasty (circa 2070BC-1600BC), Liulei (劉累),
a descendant of the legendary King Yao, was the official in charge of
the king’s dragons. When one of them died under his care, Liulei fled
with his family and settled in present-day Henan. His descendants
adopted the shi name Liu, from the first character of Liulei’s
name. It remains uncertain if these “dragons” were Yangtze alligators,
giant lizards or snakes. Another story regarding the family name is more
prosaic. In 592BC, King Ding of the Zhou dynasty conferred the state of
Liu on his younger brother, and its residents took Liu as their family
name. Much later, during the Western and Eastern Han dynasties
(206BC-AD220), the Chinese empire kept peace with the nomadic peoples at
its northern and western borders with alliances secured by marriage.
Chinese princesses were given in marriage to the rulers of the nomads,
many of whom adopted the surname Liu, the family name of their royal
in-laws. Many Lius today are the descendants of these intermarriages.
Famous Lius: The late Liu Shaoqi (劉少奇), one of the top political leaders of China in the 1950s and 60s; Andy Lau Tak-wah (劉德華), Canto-pop singer and actor; Joseph Lau Luen-hung (劉鑾雄), fugitive tycoon.
Liu Shaoqi.
陳 Putonghua: Chen Cantonese:Chan
Chen Shui-bian.
Origins:
when the Western Zhou dynasty was established, in 1046BC, the founding
King Wu managed to locate a descendant of the legendary Emperor Shun,
who had ruled the Chinese nation some 1,000 years before. This
individual, named Man, who might or might not have been the descendant
of a king who might or might not have actually existed, was made the
ruler of the state of Chen, which covered present-day eastern Henan and
parts of Anhui. To cement the legitimacy of his new dynasty, King Wu
married his oldest daughter to Man, who was tasked with making regular
offerings to his virtuous ancestor, King Shun. Man became Chen Man after
adopting the name of his state as his shi name. After his death, Chen Man was conferred the title Duke Hu (胡公). Chen Man is acknowledged as the progenitor of not one but two family names: Chen (陳), after the name of his state, and Hu (胡), from his posthumous title.
Famous Chens: Chen Shui-bian (陳水扁), former president of Taiwan; Joseph Zen Ze-kiun (陳日君), cardinal and bishop emeritus of Hong Kong; Jackie Chan (陳港生, known professionally in Chinese as 成龍), Academy Award-winning actor.
Zen Ze-kiun.
楊 Putonghua: Yang Cantonese:Yeung
Chen-Ning Franklin Yang.
Origins:
King Kang, the third king of the Western Zhou dynasty, who reigned from
1020BC to 996BC, made a cousin, Zhu, the marquess of a small region
called Yang, located in present-day southwestern Shanxi. In 514BC, the
state of Yang, which had changed hands a couple of times, was conquered
by the powerful state of Jin. The descendants of its rulers and its
residents adopted the name of their vanquished state as their shi name.
Famous Yangs: Chen-Ning Franklin Yang (楊振寧), co-winner of the 1957 Nobel Prize in Physics; Michelle Yeoh Choo Kheng (楊紫瓊), Malaysia-born international film star; Jerry Yang (楊致遠), Taiwanese-American co-founder of Yahoo!
Jerry Yang.
黃 Putonghua: Huang Cantonese:Wong, not to be confused with the other Wong (王)
Anna May Wong.
Origins:the
name can be traced back to the state of Huang, which was founded during
the Shang dynasty. The tiny state, located in present-day Henan,
acknowledged the legitimacy of the Western Zhou dynasty when the latter
replaced the Shang dynasty in 1046BC. As a reward, the Zhou king
conferred the ruler of Huang with the minor rank of viscount. Huang was
one of the two tiny states that fought against the rise of their giant
neighbour, the state of Chu. Its resistance came to nought when it was
unceremoniously annexed by Chu in 648BC. In remembrance of their former
home, Huang’s residents took its name as their shi name.
Famous Huangs: the late Anna May Wong Liu Tsong ( 黃柳霜 ), the first Chinese-American Hollywood movie star; the late Ng Teng Fong (黃廷芳), Singapore and Hong Kong property magnate; Joshua Wong Chi-fung (黃之峰), secretary general of Hong Kong political party Demosisto.
Joshua Wong.
趙 Putonghua: Zhao Cantonese:Chiu
Zhao Ziyang.
Origins:
the progenitor of the Zhaos was an individual called Zaofu, who was
famed for his skills in training horses and steering chariots. He was
the personal charioteer of King Mu, of the Western Zhou dynasty, who
reigned from 976BC to 922BC, and often accompanied the merry monarch on
his hunting expeditions and travels. It is said that once, they went so
far west they reached the Kunlun Mountains, where they met the Queen
Mother of the West, whom historians have posited was a female ruler of a
tribe or state rather than the Taoist deity of the same name. For his
services to the king, Zaofu was given the domain Zhaocheng (趙城), after which he adopted Zhao as his shi
name. Zaofu’s seventh-generation descendant went into the service of
the state of Jin and, in time, the Zhao family divided Jin with two
other families and founded the state of Zhao, whose territory occupied
parts of present-day Hebei, Shanxi and Shaanxi.
Famous Zhaos: the late Zhao Ziyang (趙紫陽), former premier of China; Cecil Chao Sze-tsung (趙世曾), business magnate; Vicki Zhao Wei (趙薇), actress and singer.
Cecil Chao.
周 Putonghua: Zhou Cantonese:Chau
Jay Chou.
Origins:
although the Zhou dynasty lasted almost 800 years, its rulers were
kings in name only for most of the dynasty’s existence. The royal domain
was surrounded by powerful states, which were nominally subordinate to
the king, and by the time the state of Qin put the dynasty out of its
misery, in 256BC, the hapless Zhou king was the lord of only a tiny
parcel of land in central China. As with many family names, members of
the former Zhou royalty and the citizens of Zhou took the place name as
their shi name.
Famous Zhous: the late Zhou Shuren (周樹人), 20th-century literary giant who wrote under the pen name Lu Xun; the late Zhou Enlai (周恩來), premier of China; Jay Chou Chieh-lun (周杰倫), Taiwanese entertainer.
Zhou Shuren
吳 Putonghua: Wu Cantonese:Ng
Daniel Wu.
Origins:
two generations before the establishment of the Zhou dynasty, in
1045BC, the founding king’s grandfather, the leader of the Zhou tribe,
wanted to make his third son (the king’s father) his heir. The first and
second sons, knowing their father’s intentions, made themselves scarce
by leaving the tribe with their families and heading south. It would
have been a very long trek from the home base of the Zhou tribe, located
in present-day Shaanxi, to the lower reaches of the Yangtze River, and
considering that the latter was then an undeveloped region peopled by
barely civilised barbarians, it would suggest the exile was not entirely
voluntary. When they reached their destination, the older brother
became chief of the locals and when he died, the younger took over. Both
brothers “went native” by tattooing themselves and cutting their hair.
By the time the Zhou dynasty was founded, the Zhou king formally created
the state of Wu, south of the Yangtze, and made his uncle’s descendant
the ruler. The people of Wu began to take Wu as their shi name.
Famous Wus: John Woo Yu-sen (吳宇森), film director; the late Momofuku Ando, born Wu Baifu (吳百福), Taiwanese-Japanese inventor of instant noodles; Daniel Wu Yin-cho (吳彥祖), Hong Kong-American actor.
What’s the story behind your English name?:
I chose my name because my surname in Chinese means ‘money’ – so
together it translates as ‘Money Money’. I think by using an unusual
English name, it’s more likely we’ll be remembered by people when we
first meet them. It makes us unique and special - which is how most
Hongkongers want to be thought of in their daily life.
Karten, 18-month-old son to local parents and godson to journalist Yonden Lhatoo, Hong Kong
Another example of Hong Kong parents giving their child (if not themselves) a unique and novel English name. [Check out the comment at the end of this post]
Karten, as featured in a story about Hong Kong education
International or local school for Hong Kong kids: does it really matter?
Yonden
Lhatoo highlights the tale of two toddlers in the city and sympathises
with their parents who have very different ideas of how best to educate
their children
You only have to look at the daunting,
dollar-driven business of sending your children to school in Hong Kong
to understand why this city has one of the lowest birth rates in the
world.
It’s just way too much hard work, starting from
the kindergarten admission process, which can require so much
preparation and fortitude from both preschoolers and parents that they
might as well be taking entrance exams and interviews for Nasa than
securing a nursery seat among a bunch of yet-to-be-toilet-trained
toddlers.
Two tiny tots I happen to know personally and
the opposite directions their parents are taking will illustrate the
age-old, local-versus-international schooling dilemma that education in
this city essentially boils down to.
Little George’s dad is an Australian colleague
at work and his mum is a Hongkonger. You’d expect his parents to put him
in an international school, but they’re not jumping on that bandwagon.
George is going to be educated in a local,
government-run school. His dad told me that he’s going to be a “local
boy” – the product of Hong Kong’s free primary and secondary education
system.
And why not? It’s free, and his parents won’t be
pouring their hard-earned money into the bottomless pit of
international school fees. The considerable savings will be squirrelled
away in his college fund.
It won’t be a breeze, of course. Government
schools can be notorious for their traditional, homework-heavy approach
to education, and language can be a real issue. But his parents are
prepared. His mum will ensure his native fluency in Cantonese and
Putonghua, while his dad looks after his English-language skills.
Then there’s my favourite kid in the world – my
godson Karten. His parents are both Hongkongers and an international
education for their child goes without saying.
Poor Karten has barely turned 1½ and, behold, it
has begun. His mum has taken an indefinite sabbatical from work to
supervise his preschooling, and he’s already in an insanely competitive
environment, diapers and all.
I tell his mum that it doesn’t matter if
Karten’s peers can recite the alphabet backwards while doing backflips.
At this stage in life, all he should be doing is being the adorable baby
that he is.
But she’s already started paying exorbitant
playschool fees, staking out kindergartens that are relatively more
difficult to get into than medical degree courses, and scrutinising
lists of outrageously overpriced, overrated international schools.
Karten is years away from learning words like “debenture”, but such
money-spinning concepts introduced by our international educators will
decide his prospects of getting into the “best” school that his parents
can barely afford.
I’m personally convinced he will become a rocket
scientist some day, whether he ends up going to Harvard or Hung Hom,
but I admit I’m severely biased in this regard.
It does make me think, though. In all my years
of vetting job applications and hiring fresh university graduates, I’ve
never seen a clear divide between local and international school
products in terms of quality and ability.
The only obvious difference, in most cases, is
proficiency in Chinese. International schoolers tend to have studied any
language – French, German, Italian, even Latin – but not Cantonese or
Putonghua. Far be it from me to judge the logic, but if you want your
children to live and work in Hong Kong, command of Chinese is a
no-brainer.
At the end of the day, I have to say it takes a
lot of guts and perseverance to be parents in this city. Respect.
However they may decide to educate their children. Yonden Lhatoo is a senior editor at the Post
Selected Comments
ohyeahar
George
and Karten* are lucky in that they’re not growing up in a typical
average HK family environment. George is able to pick up English from
his parents and Karten obviously has parents with the financial means to
put him through international schools. But think of the child whose
parents don’t have the financial means to put him through international
school and doesn’t have an Australian father. He’ll likely grow up with
poor English skills and a miniscule chance of getting into a university.
*HK parents really need to relax on trying to come up with unique
English names. It sounds like “carton” as in a “carton of milk”. It’s
CARLTON or KARLTON. You need the L there to smooth it out.
HKSAR Blog: what about Karson? Does it need an "L" too?
Isis Ching See-nga, Tsuen Wan, Hong Kong (SCMP letters 30 Sept 2011)
a somewhat unfortunate novel name that is now more likely to be linked with the extremist militant and terrorist group
The name however is from Egyptian mythology where Isis was the goddess of the sky and nature. Isis was the most powerful of all the female goddesses of ancient Egypt; sister to Osiris and mother of Horus.
Panda Chu, physiotherapist and mother interviewed by SCMP about having her baby delivered by Caesarean section, Hong Kong.
Here's the lead paragraph (Knife's edge, 23 August 2011):
To avoid damage to her pelvic floor muscles and the risk of incontinence, Panda Chu decided to have her first child delivered by Caesarean section. "I was more interested in the product than the process," the physiotherapist says. "But I can understand other women's sense of achievement in wanting to go through labour."
Gannon Jow, teacher, Hong Kong (A Chinese-American teacher jailed for 10 years in August 2011 for stabbing to death a stranger who intervened in a drunken brawl during a night out in Tsim Sha Tsui in August 2010)
Kavinia Wong, account manager, Style Magazine, SCMP, Hong Kong kavinia.wong@scmp.com
Note: also see Lavinia Chang, who is a writer at SCMP.
Perhaps the writer Lavinia is well educated in English (and hence has a proper first name), whereas the local salesperson Kavinia is relatively lacking in English skills although she wants to stand out and be noticed (and thus chooses a novel made-up name)?
Jessea Lu Wenjie, 31, freediver and researcher, China (May 2016)
Jessea is one of a growing number of mainland Chinese individuals who are carefully choosing their English or Western names and trying to make them more outstanding and novel. Jessea has certainly succeeded (see feature article about her here).
Perhaps Thomas Jefferson said it best with: “Reason and free inquiry are the only effectual agents against error“. Much error exists in the world and this blog, from the perspective of one Hong Kong SAR resident, is a small attempt to minimize errors.
(this site was formerly HKSAR Blog)
Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Yi.
Vicki Zhao, actress and singer.
Actress Michelle Yeoh.
Chinese director Zhang Yimou.
The late Zhou Enlai, premier of China
The late Lee Kuan Yew, first prime minister of Singapore
Taiwanese-American singer Wang Leehom.
Wong Kar-wai.
Bruce Lee.
Zhang Dejiang.
Canto-pop idol Leslie Cheung.
Lau Luen-hung.
Liu Shaoqi.
Chen Shui-bian.
Zen Ze-kiun.
Chen-Ning Franklin Yang.
Jerry Yang.
Anna May Wong.
Joshua Wong.
Zhao Ziyang.
Cecil Chao.
Jay Chou.
Zhou Shuren
Daniel Wu.
John Woo.
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