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SCMP Reporter

Kung fu master Ha Tak-kin clears his throat, his voice drowned out by the clashing of cymbals and beating of large drums.

  Raising his pitch, the fit 40-year-old embarks on what has become a routine in his life - teaching youngsters the basics of a traditional art form - the lion dance.

   Scores of 15 and 16-year-olds in the school yard listen attentively as he explains the skills involved.

  A short distance away, other youngsters practise playing the musical instruments that accompany the dance.

  Chu Shek Lun Pre-vocational School is the latest to join more than 80 others arranging for their students to learn an art dating back centuries.

  Lion dancing may be a regular feature of festive occasions, especially during the Lunar New Year, but there are only a few who share Mr Ha's passion and commitment.

  Faced with a heavy workload and economic pressures, fewer adults are learning it these days.

  'Adults cannot spare the time. They only make up about one-third of my lion dance students,' says Mr Ha.

  'Many quit after they found out how tiring it is.'   Yet he is hopeful that the tradition will continue.

  Thanks to a scheme jointly run by the Education Department and the Hong Kong Chinese Martial Arts Association, masters have been sent to schools to teach the lion dance as an extra-curricular activity over the past three years.

  In the school yard, everyone looks impressed as Mr Ha makes a forceful sweep of a lion's head made of bamboo and paper.

  'You have to imagine yourself as a lion and learn to show its various emotions, whether it is sorrow, amusement or horror,' the instructor explains.

  Captivated by Mr Ha's waving of the flag, a performance sometimes staged with lion dancing, Form Two student Chan Chun-wang is eager to try.

  'I like the dance. Lions look ferocious,' he says enthusiastically.

  Mr Ha, son of Ha Kwok-cheung, the lion dance 'king' of Hong Kong and well-known bone-setter, has mastered the routine since childhood, growing up in the company of kung fu students and masters.

  During his youth, lion dancing was a way of showing off one's martial arts skills.

  It is also symbolic. Dotting the lion's eyes, for example, represents infusing life into the animal.

  However, in recent years, with fewer people learning martial arts partly due to the view that many instruction centres are filled with thugs, the lion dance is mostly seen as a celebrative ritual.

  Official recognition of it as a sport came in 1991 when the Urban and Regional Councils agreed to sponsor tournaments.

  'Very few people are as devoted to it as I am,' says Mr Ha. 'I organised almost 100 shows during the Lunar New Year period.'    Promoting the dance at schools, he believes, will help ensure a continual supply of talent.

  The response from pupils and teachers has been encouraging. 'Many schools and teachers are interested,' says Mr Ha, who is also vice-chairman of the martial arts association.

  'There are parents worried about their children spending their spare time in video games centres or other places infiltrated by bad elements. They think learning the lion dance is a better alternative.'    Mr Ha, who also provides training for the Junior Police Call, confesses he has little time for the bone-setting and Chinese medicine clinic he runs in Yau Ma Tei. It is now mostly left to a woman medical professional trained in Guangzhou.

   He went into teaching martial arts without completing secondary education, and has few regrets.

   'You feel very satisfied upon hearing people's applause at the end of each performance.'   Teenagers now comprise 90 per cent of the lion dance performers in the territory today, according to martial arts association vice-president, Lung Kai-ming. At new business openings, spring dinners or international competitions, it is not uncommon to find between two and six youngsters inside a lion, bouncing up and down before leaping to pluck a head of lettuce suspended from above.

  Youngsters will continue to ensure the lion dance has a future, Mr Lung believes, and not only because of increased learning opportunities at schools.

   'Audiences today like to see exciting leaps and twists that are more easily performed by a youngster.

  'In Malaysia, studies have shown that learning lion dancing has led to a drop in youth crime.'    While those learning at school rarely perform at commercial functions, the 20-odd youngsters aged from six to their 20s who practise privately with Mr Ha often showcase their skills at public performances that charge about $5,000.

  The performers themselves are paid very little, often only enough to cover their travel expenses. But Mr Ha insists he is not treating them as cheap labour.

  'They will make little improvement if they do not perform in public,' he points out.

  'We never force anyone to learn, neither do we enforce any regular training.

  'We have to invest in equipment.

  'A lion's head, for example, costs in the region of $7,000 and is no longer usable after about a dozen performances.' Some players have reaped many benefits, he adds, such as a boost in self-confidence.

  'Some of the students are low-achievers at school,' Mr Ha says.

  'Performing a tough dance gives them a great sense of satisfaction.'   One example is 16-year-old Leung Ka-hing, who used to be a school drop-out suffering from low self-esteem.

  Sent to Mr Ha's troupe by his father, Ka-hing is now back in school, taking time out twice a week to practise handling a lion's head.

  The only child in his family, he also enjoys mixing with his fellow students and Mr Ha.

  Last November, he beat dozens of others by taking first prize in a territory-wide tournament.

  'Good co-operation with others is very important,' said the small teenager.

  'I used to be bored with school. But now I think no matter what, it is important to obtain a certain level of education.'   Both Mr Ha's teenage sons play in his troupe, yet the doting father says he would prefer them to concentrate on their studies, at least for now.

  'I always tell my students to study hard,' he says. 'They will not be able to survive in a competitive society like Hong Kong if they don't.

  He then adds, wryly: 'Even many of the invitation letters that reach us these days are written in English.'   Mr Ha himself is determined to do his best to continue the Chinese tradition, with the next challenge being an upcoming territory-wide competition planned for June that will straddle the handover.

  'It's fun always being with a group of youngsters. They are all like my children.

  'The teaching is enjoyable, too, because the lion dance is intended for festive occasions.

  'It also helps create a festive atmosphere and is a big contrast from the grim expressions often seen on the faces of people who come to my clinic,' he adds with a smile.



Dancing to roar of the wild