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| VC Ram Bahadur Limbu @San Tin Barrack Hong Kong with Dev Raj Rai |
Gurkha faces were familiar in Hong Kong right up to the restoration of Chinese rule, for many thousands of them were here as soldiers to help defend the territory for Britain. But not all followed the famous line that "Old soldiers never die; they just fade away" when the British army's Brigade of Gurkhas was withdrawn on July 1, 1997.
Hundreds of ex-soldiers from Nepal remained, often with their families, and a job in security was a welcome option.
One firm was noted for the ex- Gurkha soldiers riding its cash-carrying armored trucks even before 1997. Other Gurkhas stepped into the boots of former soldiers and people from the martial classes of India and Pakistan, who until recently were familiar shotgun-toting figures outside banks and jewelry stores.
But some Gurkhas have gone beyond run-of-mill security jobs to earn valuable reputations as minders of some of Hong Kong's richest people.
They're those hard-looking, ever- watchful guys - Himalayan types, a mix of South and East Asia - you see opening limousine doors for a tycoon and staying close as he enters a swank hotel for a meeting.
These are among the descendants of warriors who British forces were unable to beat in a colonial campaign against Nepal early in the 19th century. That led the British to sign them on in 1814 to fight on their side, and the magnificent mercenaries have never faltered since.
Today there are less than 4,000 Gurkhas in Britain's army, but their well- documented acts of braver
y and absolute loyalty combined with the best of British training makes them among the most valued fighting men in the world.
(Ask Harry Windsor, a wayward prince of a soldier and third in the line of succession to the British throne, whether he felt safe with Gurkha protectors while serving in Afghanistan a few years ago.)
These martial attributes make the ex- Gurkha fighting man a first choice for many of the rich, powerful and famous who want protection.
What also appeals in Hong Kong is that a majority of ex-Gurkhas - Nepalese generally, in fact - do not speak or understand Chinese. So no worries about a bodyguard tuning to private conversations or learning business secrets.
Some tycoons are prepared to pay these most trustworthy of men as much as HK$1 million a year to watch their backs, fronts and sides.
Even in this era of private security firms paying top dollar for those with the attributes to protect businesses and diplomatic missions in places like Iraq, Afghanistan and other places most of us would not choose to be, that's pretty good money when you consider the mostly peaceful face of Hong Kong.
But the language barrier has drawbacks for the Nepalese veterans. It isolates them and makes it difficult for them to adapt to Hong Kong society.
In their soldiering days it didn't matter too much, for they were billeted with countrymen - perhaps even relatives. And British officers had to speak fluent Gurkhali in order to be allowed to command these renowned fighters.
That's not expected of a Chinese boss.
Besides being a sometimes lonely existence if a Nepalese is on his own as a bodyguard (though some tycoons have a crew), what's life like a soldier turned into a rich man's minder?
Explaining some of his routines, Limbu said he and some other ex-soldiers arrive daily at a parking lot where their boss has his car. They check the area and then inside and outside the vehicle.
That includes using a mirror to check under the car - standard procedure at checkpoints in parts of the world where bombs and vehicles often go together. The personalized car bomb, of course, has also been a long-time favorite of gangsters rubbing out rivals.
Barring a nasty surprise, there's no need to say anything when such chores are completed. In fact, linguistic hassles can arise if trying to point out a minor defect to the boss. Best to simply have everything in order before it's time to go. As Limbu points out: "We don't have a word for 'accident' in our language."
Limbu joined Britain's Brigade of Gurkhas when he was 18. He served in many countries, with Hong Kong his last posting.
"I decided to stay in Hong Kong to continue my career after retiring in 1996 and I was soon employed as a bodyguard by a tycoon," he recalls.
(His name is noteworthy, for it is an insight into the pedigree of the fighting man. "Gurkha" comes from the hill town of Gorkha, an area from which Nepal was formed and expanded. And even today recruitment is concentrated on four ethnic groups: the Gurung and Magar of central Nepal and the Limbu and Rai from the east, where farming in wild terrain makes boys into men.)
Recruitment of ex-Gurkhas as bodyguards here started during the 1980s and 1990s when there were many kidnapping cases, and it's never slowed.
One tycoon hired more than 40 retired Gurkhas - or close to half a company of soldiers - while others have recruited a dozen. So it's easy to put together teams to work around the clock.
As Limbu notes, Gurkha soldiers are often used on VIP protection missions, like with Prince Harry. They are trained in personalized defense tactics - including how to be bullet blockers - along with all- round combat skills.
The language factor has counted for a lot, Limbu says. Most Gurkhas have limited skills in English and next to nothing in Cantonese. Besides that being a barrier to socializing with Hong Kong people at large, it all but rules out a minder being drawn into a criminal conspiracy if they were for some reason inclined to override their famous trait of loyalty.
"Gurkhas were not allowed to learn Chinese during the colonial era," Limbu remembers. "We were not even allowed to listen to Chinese radio programs. This was intended to limit our relationship with Chinese people as that could affect our mission and duty."
Most bodyguards are on a basic monthly salary of about HK$30,000, though HK$100,000 is not unusual when an employer's total trust is earned. But as Limbu says, there's virtually no way to expand a career in security.
"There are few promotion opportunities - just like in the old days."
Still, ex-Gurkha soldiers who want to be bodyguards in Hong Kong have demand on their side, for they form a shrinking pool of tough talent.
Action more in tune with their days in uniform attracts many to security firms in conflict zones, and with Gurkha units long gone from Hong Kong the pre-1997 veterans are getting old. So new blood is hard to tap.
Securitas branch manager Kenneth Tong Hing-man told The Standard sister publication East Week that the number of Gurkhas available for hire dropped markedly after 2008, when ex-soldiers were given unfettered right of abode in Britain and took the chance.
But Hong Kong outfits can still find ex-Gurkhas for hire in India and Singapore, he said, or even go right to the source and recruit in Nepal - just like the British army does today.
One who did come direct from Nepal is Thapa - another familiar name in Gurkha ranks. His father was stationed in Hong Kong and, like many, wanted his son to follow him into the British army.
"Training was part of my childhood," Thapa recalls. "I learned how to work with guns since the age of 10, ran five kilometers every day in the countryside, and there were plenty of push-ups and sit- ups."
But he did not seek to join the army after his schooling as he needed to join his father in Hong Kong.
That lack of military experience has meant he has not gone beyond being a security guard at a designer brand shop, but that doesn't prevent him aiming to be in the elite of the security industry.
"I joined a protection training group in Vietnam last September, aiming to be a professional bodyguard," Thapa says. Like many people of Gurkha stock in Hong Kong who left their homeland when they were in their teens, he sees himself as belonging in Hong Kong.
Common language
There are about 20,000 Nepalese in Hong Kong, and 90 percent of them have military ties. Most live in Kam Tin in Yuen Long, which is close to the former Shek Kong camp, and in Jordan near Gun Club Hill Barracks, where Gurkha units once paraded.
Shing Mun Sun Chuen in Yuen Long is also a "settlement," and there are many Nepalese stores and restaurants in the area.
One in three people there is Nepalese, but local Chinese do not usually greet them on the streets, which may not be surprising given the lack of previous interaction or a common language.
Asha, who runs a store selling dried food, drinks and cigarettes, is a second- generation Nepalese in Hong Kong and counts herself lucky to be able to socialize with others.
"I talk to the locals among my customers," she says, but her Cantonese is limited. A perfect pronunciation of cigarette brand names is about the best she can manage. A former Gurkha sergeant, Bahadur, was in Asha's store the other day. He settled in Hong Kong more than 15 years ago but says he does not need to have contacts with locals.
"My wife cooks Nepalese food every day and I spend my time with my friends after work," Bahadur says.
"I work as a security officer on The Peak. I have 20 men under me and all are Nepalese."
Looking around the store at people enjoying drinks and talking, he says: "This is what our social lives were like before, when I was in the army."
Pradip Kandangwa was born in a military camp in Hong Kong in 1962 and was still a youngster when he went to Nepal. He spent 30 years there but then came back to the land of his birth, though there is much about it he can't handle.
"We did not receive regular education in Hong Kong when we were young," he says, "and the schools in Nepal did not teach English. But I was interested in English and tried to learn by myself. So my English is better than that of my friends.
"I opened a restaurant in Jordan after returning, so life is quite good."
What is not so good, he adds, is the feeling he's something of an outsider. Nor is it easy for his 11-year-old daughter, who was born and educated here.
"There are a lot of Nepalese, Indian and Pakistani students in my daughter's school, and they usually communicate in English," Kandangwa says. But there are only one or two Chinese language sessions, which he sees as a drawback.
Hoping his daughter can progress here, he considered a private tutor for Putonghua. But that idea had to be dropped because of the cost of tuition.
Because of their limited linguistic skills, there are few suitable courses for Nepalese offered by training agencies. The best that strapping sons of some fine old soldiers can hope for is basic security guard work if they lack military skills.
If they do have Gurkha military service on their CVs then a private bodyguard's job beckons.
Yet who will take care of them and their kids when they are too old to make sure a rich family works, plays and rests within a ring of loyal minders who can't speak up for themselves?
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