jennifer chow kit-bing

PERHAPS, THIS being the season of pantomime villains, you gave a little hiss when you saw the name of today's subject. Jennifer Chow Kit-bing was the woman who wrote to Education and Manpower Secretary Joseph Wong Wing-ping in September, and asked him to cut domestic workers' wages by 20 per cent. Shortly afterwards, she was in the papers again for apparently suggesting helpers should work a 16-hour day. Earlier this year she had an run-in with Liberal Party chairman Allen Lee Peng-fei when he didn't want her to stand on the Liberal platform during the May election, so she resigned, stood as an independent and lost. Not a year, one instinctively feels, of obvious triumphs (apart, of course, from the unusual accolade of being awarded not one but two Postmagazine Ding Bongs, see page 10).

So how would she describe 1998? 'Rewarding. Challenging. It implies great importance for me.' And Chow, a small 43-year-old with an intimidating aura of energy, like a hand grenade compressed into a suit, fixed me with a long, steady stare. In the spirit of impartial reporting it should be pointed out that I'd gone along to her office at the Bauhinia Association fully expecting - indeed, hoping - to encounter a high-calibre crackpot of limited intellect. Unfortunately, and greatly to my surprise, Chow showed no apparent weird tendencies, unless you count having your photograph on your namecard. She stood her ground, argued her case, and gave every indication of being a determined woman.

It wasn't the most relaxing interview for either of us - she remained perched on the edge of her chair, behind her desk, arms crossed in front of her for an hour - but I gave her credit for agreeing to it. She must have suspected I wasn't likely to be cheering her on in print. 'I found it strange, the difference between the Chinese press and the English-language press,' she said of media coverage on her domestic-helper proposals. 'The Chinese press is quite sympathetic, generally speaking, quite supportive to this economic downturn issue. The English-language press seems quite ... the opposite.' Why does she think that might be? 'I believe it's a matter of culture. Local people are more understanding, they feel the economic uncertainty. They want these domestic helpers to share the burden at this critical moment. The English-language press think of it as exploitation or slavery.' What seems to have galvanised her was a batch of complaints from friends and some of the 1,500 members of the Bauhinia Association, which she founded in 1991 to 'encourage housewives to participate in social affairs'. They said they were struggling to pay their helpers the minimum wage of $3,860, which is set by the Hong Kong Government. 'So I tried to find out the facts. I talked to the Asian Migrant Workers' union, which is very strong, we had a meeting and started brainstorming. Of course, they rejected my proposal of lowering the minimum-wage level.' Was she surprised by that? 'No. I believe this is a natural response. They asked me to withdraw such a proposal because my argument is strong and they can't resist it. If the boss has a financial crisis how can the employee be left out? We're talking about a good relationship, a human relationship in a family, I receive comments from people who treasure the contribution of their domestic helpers. They don't want to terminate them, they want to compromise. But the Government does not allow it.' I paused to ponder this, imagining families ripped asunder by the cruelty of labour laws, and also to tussle with the (surely indisputable but morally difficult) fact that most domestic helpers would prefer some money to none at all. Chow says, and I believe her, that she's received minor encouragement from Filipina workers who are desperate to stay here. But at this point, she rather spoiled her argument by stating, 'And, secondly, the market price is around $2,000 anyway. That can be seen in ads in supermarkets and employment agencies. So that is a very strange phenomenon.' I could see the thin end of the wedge making an unwelcome and predictable entry here, so we moved on to the 16-hour day. 'That's just a kind of reference. It's not exceeding 16 hours. That's what they say in Singapore.' Doesn't that encourage the unscrupulous? 'It's not our duty to examine how many working hours a day the helpers work. If the family is out at work, then the foreign domestic helper only works eight hours a day.' Her own household employs three domestic helpers, even though Chow, who is also an Urban Councillor, says she's at work from 8.30 to about 11 pm, and her husband, who works in office equipment, travels frequently. They have one daughter, who is studying in the US. So why on earth does she need three helpers? Chow laughed for the first and only time. 'Oh, because they need to take care of the big house and the gardening and everything.' Do they know what their employer is proposing? 'They know the issues. They quite understand why I'm doing so, that it's not for myself. It's for the housewife in the sandwich class.' She genuinely sees herself as a crusader (the phrase 'social worker' is particularly favoured), and she wants the Government to set up a Women's Committee. She's also trying to get various independent District Board members to band together for the next election, having found it a lonely business in May. Is she ambitious? 'Yes.' How else would she describe herself? 'If I may say, I'm a person who becomes stronger when the pressure on me is larger. This may be due to my background. I had to face a lot of pressure as a child.' Her childhood, in fact, probably explains why she has no patience with namby-pamby Government rules about pay and working hours for helpers. She was the second of six children - one boy and five girls - in a traditional Chiu Chow family which certainly couldn't afford help. Her lack of status was drummed into her at an early age. 'My mother always told me a girl is less important in society, and once a girl gets married, that's all. That is the end. So I was a timid, shy girl with no ambition. I had to stop my education after secondary school to go to work and help my brother go to university.' Work uplifted her - financially, socially, intellectually - so now she has a mission to encourage other women to achieve the same. How about next year's resolutions? 'I have a plan!' cried Chow, who appears to have no sense of irony. 'I plan to bring out a vision of family values in the year 2000. We need to address women's issues in society. Women have too many problems in Hong Kong.'