Proud to be Hakka

Popo by Alan Lau

The idea for this book was planted when I was just a child. My grandmother (we called her Popo) kept telling us, “You should be proud to be Hakka.” My brother and I resisted, refusing to speak Hakka even though we could understand most of what was being said. We were the odd balls in an all white conservative community in northern California. In fact, we were the first and only Chinese in town. In spite of our protests, Popo taught us Chinese lessons after our American classes. We learned to write Chinese calligraphy and read from picture books, but it didn’t stick.

It wasn’t until we grew up and left home did we realize what we missed. I greatly regret not being able to speak Hakka, even though I know few people who do.  My career as a food writer and my family absorbed most of my time.  It wasn’t until I left Sunset Magazine and had more time to pursue other interests that Popo’s words echoed in my ear. What did she mean? Why should I be proud to be Hakka? Now I had the time to find out.

I had more than three decades experience writing about food and developing recipes. I would explore my culture through what I knew best, food. In the digital age, I could search the web and find basic information on the Hakka. I was surprised how easy it was. Occasionally, before computers and google I would try to find information about the Hakka and found very little. I knew the Hakka were wanderers or nomads but never realized how scattered they were. They were pockets literally all over the world. Since I grew up knowing very few Chinese, let alone Hakka, I had assumed the Hakka were a small minority. Yet once I started my research I saw world population figures ranging from thirty to one hundred twenty million. A recent figure estimates 75 million Hakka live throughout the world. Also Hakka are not a minority, but Han, part of the Chinese majority.

I found reference books that enlightened me about who the Hakka were. The Hakka share a unique history and identity. The ancestors of the Hakka were displaced from their northern home around the fourth century and led a life as homeless migrants for centuries. Between the tenth to the fourteenth century, they lived in an isolated mountainous area in Fujian province where they solidified their language, culture, and identity. As they moved south they were treated as unwelcome lowly newcomers left with poor pieces of land. This forced the Hakka to grow strong in their ability to survive in any situation through hard work, adaptation, frugality, and tenacity. They gained a reputation as being pioneers, able to establish settlements where no one else could such as in Sarawak and Sabah in the Federation of Malaysian. Even in James Michener’s  historical novel Hawaii, Dr. Whipple specifically requests Hakka laborers for his sugar plantations. When asked why, he replies “…Hakka can work…” Eventually these hardy pioneers settled throughout the world.

Hakkas are no longer just peasants. Many great political leaders were Hakka—China’s political reformer Deng Xiaoping, father of modern China Sun Yat-sen, Taiwan’s first elected president Lee Teng-hui, and Singapore’s first prime minister Lee Kuan Yew. Author Han Suyin ( Many-Splendoured Thing) and artist Lin Fengmian claim Hakka heritage. Famed couture shoe designer Jimmy Choo is a Hakka born in Malaysia. Actor and action film star Chow Yun-Fat who starred in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon is a Hakka from Hong Kong. Successful Hakka restauranteur Alan Yau who created the original Michelin-starred Hakkasan in Britain was also born in Hong Kong.

Finding a book publisher

I first started thinking about The Hakka Cookbook in 2004.  I had contributed to many Sunset cookbooks but had never written one on my own. Although Sunset Magazine had sponsored my first trip to China which resulted in a story “From China’s Kitchen’s to Ours,” writing for the magazine of Western Living, limited some of my authentic ethnic pursuits. I wanted to write outside of the Sunset boundaries.

I knew Hakka cooking was not exactly mainstream.  Even many Chinese knew little about the cuisine. The subject of my cookbook, Hakka recipes, had good and bad arguments. It was a totally unique subject (a good thing) but lacked mainstream appeal (a bad attribute for publishers who want to sell a lot of books). Although I had experience writing recipes, I was not a celebrity. I learned a big name—in the sense people recognize you— scores high with publishers (a long name like mine doesn’t count). That means it’s easier to sell a lot of books. A well-known chef, a food network star, even an actor has a better chance selling a cookbook proposal than a professional recipe and food writer.

The first step was writing a book proposal. I needed to include the focus of the book, sample recipes and text, art samples, explain who would buy the book, and why I was qualified to write the book. I heard authors had better chances of selling a proposal with a book agent. I gathered recommendations from my author friends and sent my proposal to about half a dozen agents. Finally after six months, I received an offer from a New York agent who agreed to represent my book.

After about a year, she was still unable to sell my book. I felt she had exhausted her contacts (at least ones that would pay well enough for her to earn a decent commission) and decided to sell the book myself.  After a few inquiries to smaller publishing houses, I received two offers. The advances were minor, but they were willing to publish the manuscript. I signed with the publisher that agreed to follow my concept of the book and include my brother’s art. Within a few months after I signed the contract, the economy sank. Publishing was changing. Fewer books were being printed. E-books and self-publishing were gaining a foothold. In 2009, after I had submitted my first half of the manuscript, I started to get nervous. They postponed the publishing date.  My contacts on the staff were leaving. People throughout the country were losing their jobs. Finally I heard back from the publisher. Due to the downturn in the economy, they felt they could no longer afford to publish the book. They canceled my contract.

I was back where I started.  I decided to go back to potential publishers who I felt were a good fit but could not publish me when I asked years ago. Luckily, University of California Press accepted my proposal  in 2010. This is my first experience with a university press so I’m not sure if the process is the same for all. You need patience working with a university press. At almost every step, my proposal and manuscript were sent out to scholars and professionals to review. Based on their recommendations, they would decide whether to publish or not. The reviews were helpful, especially with my research. Scholars contributed good references and facts. Best of all, they recommended that my book be published. I might not make any money at all unless I sell a lot of books, but at least my years of research and recipe testing would be published. With the publisher’s slim budget, my brother’s art would no longer be in glorious color, but a least it would appear. I felt the book had finally found a good home.