Life and changing times of Hong, 122

NEVER has old age been so openly accredited in China, as in the cases of the country's Queen and King of Longevity, who were officially crowned in October. The pair were too old to travel to Beijing to collect their trophies and certificates, so officials from their home counties went on their behalf. Even so, the awards ceremony was a televised event. According to China's latest census statistics, the country's oldest man is a 133-year-old from Guizhou. His female counterpart, Hong Ying, is a spritely 122 and lives in Guangdong. Hong's life has been accompanied by constant work. She's a person who likes to walk and labour, say neighbours in Hong's farming community in Huaiji county in the southwest corner of the province. Despite her age, the petite woman still strolls the five kilometres to her granddaughter's home in the nearby town, then a few days later makes the journey back home again. ''She often walks up the hill to collect tree branches and herbs. She often goes, by herself. She doesn't talk much,'' said one neighbour, a peasant woman wearing shabby clothes and worn-out shoes. She typifies Hong's neighbours who live in very simplebrick houses. ''Most men in our village make clays and do construction work while the women work on the fields,'' she adds. The village people know Hong's family well. It's a big family indeed. More than 20 of them, including Hong's son, his children and grandchildren, live in several brick houses close to one another. But not everyone knows their village is home to the country's oldest woman. ''I don't know. I can't read,'' the neighbour said. What is well known to many in the village, however, is that Hong is an avid broom maker. She turns clumps of pine tree branches into a broom by tying them up tightly. Such brooms are common in hilly Huaiji, where Hong was born and has lived all her life. ''She made a few just several days ago,'' said her son, an amiable 78-year-old. Smiling at the mention of her mother, he said that Hong has been relieved of cooking duties, which the vast majority of Chinese women, old and young, are bound to perform. ''She can eat at the places of any of us. How can we let her cook given her age?'' he said. Hong was born in feudal China. When she was 15, her vendor father sold her off as a bride to a family named Leung in order to repay his gambling debts. Life with the Leungs was tough. She had to collect, chop wood and then sell it on the streets. Later, she worked as a maid for a wealthy landlord to support the family. She has also raised six children. Her husband died some 60 years ago. But the upheaval and political changes that have taken place in China since her birth have brought few changes to her life. The Qing dynasty collapsed and heralded the end of feudalism. Then came the rise of rivalling warlords, and the eventual fight for power between the Nationalists and the Communists. These events hardly deflected her attention from the task of taking care of her family. With little education, her children toiled as peasants. And because of their background, they were unscathed by the notorious Cultural Revolution. In recent years, Hong has witnessed a revolution of a different kind, with the construction of several factories and much-needed road works, and phenomenal interest in Hong Kong television programmes broadcast to their homes. But despite the changes, Hong's family has always been together. ''My father cared much about her,'' said 78-year-old Leung Xingwah, Hong's only living son. Leung said he was thrilled to learn that his mother was the oldest woman in the country. But he has no clue as to any secret recipe for long life. ''She eats what we eat,'' he said. Hong is said to be in pretty good health, she has never been hospitalised and rarely needs medication. Old age is generally regarded as a blessing among Chinese families. Hong's pleasant personality may add to people's general fondness for her. ''She's kind, never squabbled with anyone,'' said the wife of one of her grandsons. ''I just don't know how to describe her kindness,'' said another. Unfortunately, all those words of praise fall on deaf ears. Though she can speak loud and clear Hong is very hard of hearing. Strangely enough, her granddaughter, who lives in the town, is the only one who can truly communicate with her. Her family believes that is because Hong brought her up. ''[Hong] was almost 80 when she was born. Her mother died shortly after giving birth,'' said one of the family. Wearing a velvet cap, and dressed in the plain, black cotton light jacket and pants favoured by traditional old Chinese women, beady-eyed Hong occasionally blurted out some regimented sentences in her own dialect as her family talked about her. She smiled all the time, apparently oblivious to what was being said. ''She is always smiling, and pleasant,'' said the husband of her granddaughter, who was away at work. ''She likes children a lot. She treats everyone the same.'' Having been in close contact with her for more than a decade, he has found her a source of joy rather than a nuisance to his own family. ''She is capable of taking care of herself, say putting on, washing clothes. She will let us know if she's unhappy about something. I don't mind having her around. Someone must stay with her. I would like to be taken care of when I get old too.'' The close-knit family Hong enjoys probably stops her feeling lonely, even at an extremely old age. ''She shouldn't be lonely, even though she only has very few old friends left. She still likes to go out and visit people she knows,'' said another member of her extensive family. And she often ventures out on her own at times to eat wanton at her favourite stall. Regional officials impressed with her age often send Hong gifts to her granddaughter's home to express their admiration and concern. But Hong may have little idea of what the kind gestures are for. A woman neighbour said: ''Hong asks questions like 'what did people give me the thick mattress, the blankets for?', and 'why do people keep coming and take pictures of me?'. '' Probably the ceramic trophy and the certificates commending her age don't mean much to her either. But they could be valuable to the government of the county which, separated by four hours' drive from booming Guangzhou, has waited too long for attention.