*
Back home in Hong Kong, Kennedy turned his attention to a literary event with the arrival of his friend Pat O’Connelly, in town on a leg of his latest book tour. A press conference and cocktail was being held in the Peninsula for the launch his latest book, printed in traditional Chinese characters Kennedy had remarked, for Hong Kong and Taiwan, a fact that had escaped O’Connelly’s attention.
“What do you think of Dan Brown’s new book?” he asked O’Connelly.
“Very entertaining, a real page turner.”
“I heard the translators were holed up in an underground bunker in Italy.”
“Yes, all eleven of them, for two months.”
“Does he make that all up?”
“Well a lot of research goes into a book like that.”
“A bit far fetched to my mind,” said Kennedy, a wayward Catholic, to whom the idea of Jesus being married to Mary Magdalene was vaguely blasphemous.
“Maybe, but I like his sales figures.”
“I read more than two hundred million books.”
“So it seems.”
“You’ve done pretty well for yourself.”
“I’ve sold a few million, but I’ve got a lot of catching up to do on Dan Brown.”
“I imagine the Vatican is not too happy with him.”
“Yes, you’ve got to be careful about what you write. I got quite a piece of flak when my book about the Temple of Jerusalem was published.”
“I enjoyed that, I don’t see why anyone should be offended.”
“Well you’re not a Jew, or a Muslim.”
“No,” said Pat shrugging, “but I don’t think too many people will be worried about a story of Dante’s Inferno.”
“No, not unless you’re a banker.”
Pat frowned, but before he could reply Angus MacPherson appeared, his face beaming with pleasure.
“Angus! You’re looking happy.”
“Yes, it’s a day to celebrate. The Footsie is steaming ahead. At this rate it’ll close above 6600 points, the first time since October 2007.”
“Excellent. We’re off to London in a couple of days. Some shopping for Lili and I’ll be with Michael.”
CANTONESE
Pat Kennedy’s fortuitous meeting with Lili provided him with a mine of information on China, its peoples and its history. He discovered how those who bore the same surname supposed they shared a common origin, an idea that was patently absurd, but nevertheless tenacious in the Chinese mind. The existence of Chinese same surname associations were widespread especially amongst overseas Chinese.
Lili’s father had recounted the story of how all Chinese believed they were descended from Huang Ti, the Yellow Emperor, whose fourteen of his sons were given different surnames, from which every Chinese family was supposedly derived. Every Chinese could therefore pretend to a link to Huang Ti, however tenuous. The reality was a large part of China’s population was of mixed ancestry, descended from Mongol tribes, Miaos, Yaos, Qiangs and Tartars.
Ancestor worship went with genealogy and wealthy families like that of Lili’s, maintained ancestral temples or clan halls, where the achievements of their illustrious forbearers were recorded for the edification of their descendants.
The Chinese were firm believers in race. Beside Huang Ti there was Yen Ti, who according to tradition was the founder of Chinese medicine. Every Chinese schoolchild recognised Huang Ti or Yen Ti. When they spoke of the descendants of the Yellow Emperor or Sons and Grandsons of Huang Ti and Yen Ti, they spoke of the Chinese race.
Canton was far from north China and in terms of Chinese history the Cantonese were, relatively speaking, newcomers to the Middle Kingdom. Until the tenth century, today’s Province of Canton was Nan-yueh, or Nam-viet in Vietnamese, and its peoples were not Chinese. In terms of blood lines the southern Chinese were more closely related to the Vietnamese, Laotian and Cambodian peoples than those of the north.
Lili’s family, who was Cantonese, descended from families of high officials of the imperial court, according to her father, known in the West as mandarins. Cantonese, the language they spoke, distinguished them from the north where Mandarin was spoken. The City of Canton, Guangzhou, or the City of Five Goats, was the third largest in China, with its people and nearby neighbours speaking Cantonese, Hakka, Teochew, Leizhou Min, Tuhua, Mandarin, Zhuanga and hodgepodge of other local dialects, often mutually incomprehensible.
The Cantonese, that is the people of Guangdong Province, were convinced of their own uniqueness, pretending they were more Chinese than their cousins of the north, who had been tainted by the blood of the Mongol and Manchu invaders.
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