Fragrant memories

Dearest friend

Ho said she never expected the incense tree to be such a passion for her.

She started her career in environmental protection after a serious illness. She had worked as a Chinese teacher at a middle school after graduating from the Chinese University of Hong Kong, and traveled to Nepal at the age of 29. When she returned to Hong Kong, she had lost her appetite, and her weight fell to only 70 pounds (31.75 kilograms) after several months. "Body checks showed that everything was okay, but I felt I was almost dead."

Ho quit her teaching job and went to Lantau island, hoping the clean air there could heal her. During her vacation in 1999, she, along with several other environmental enthusiasts, formed the Association of Tai O Environment and Development, focusing on environmental concerns and protesting civil development.

One day in 2011, two monks approached her. They told Ho the pillaging of the incense trees by poachers. Out of curiosity, Ho started to research the trees.

Ho learned that the incense tree is one of the top ingredients used in the Chinese incense culture. The fragrance cannot be artificially copied. The tree is a native species particularly abundant in mature woodlands next to the rural villages in Hong Kong.

Ancient villagers always plant the tree near cemeteries, in the belief that the tree can protect the family and ensure fortunes are passed to the next generations.

With her growing knowledge of how deeply the tree is tied to Chinese tradition, Ho's bond with the Aquilaria grew even stronger.

At Ho's house, there are many pictures of incense trees being felled. They were printed on A3 size photo papers and sealed plastic. It takes Ho a while to think of the year she went to the university, while she only needs a second to recall where and when she found each of the felled trees. "I've spent even more time with trees than with people in recent years. Incense trees are my close friends."

The hardiest time for her was not when being hit nearly by the car, but when visiting a root carving museum in the city of Dongguan in Guangdong province.

Several of carvings made from the roots of incense trees are exhibited there. The sense of cruelty involved in these creations suffocates Ho. "To me, it was a horrible place with the 'dead bodies of my dearest friends'," said Ho, who took a deep breath. "But I have to learn about the market. That's my job."

Poaching is not as rampant as it used to be, but Ho still can't settle her nerves. Ho and the government installed thermal imaging cameras next to incense trees. Once any creature passes by, the camera records it and sends the photo to devices, including Ho's mobile. Ho opened the album of those photos. It is full of thermal images of creatures, such as birds or insects, hastening past the camera. Throughout the entire album, there's not a single picture of a human.

Ho also keeps checking the livestream of the surrounding environment in case someone covers the camera. Several times, there was signal loss, which she reported to the police. All instances were found to be malfunctions.

The fact that the number of poaching has been greatly reduced does not draw a close to Ho's job. As the majority of people have not realized the deep bond between the tree and local culture, Ho is shifting her focus to raising public awareness.

"One day, if the last wild incense tree on the earth dies, people in Hong Kong will lose not only a species but also a natural representative of their culture," she said.

Ho said she would not miss a chance to publicize stories about the trees, as she believes it's better to "bombard" people with regular news on the trees than to see headlines about the extinction shock people who'll find it too late to regret.