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This distinct subgroup of Han Chinese later became known as the Hakka, literally meaning “guest people” or “guest families,” reflecting their status as outsiders wherever they settled.
When the Tang Dynasty collapsed in 907 AD after a devastating peasant rebellion, another major wave of refugees fled southward into Fujian and Guangdong border regions.
A third and even larger migration occurred during the 12th and 13th centuries when Mongol forces under Genghis Khan and Kublai Khan invaded and conquered China.
As a result, southern China eventually became home to four major Chinese communities – the Hokkiens, Teochews, Cantonese and Hakkas – each possessing distinct dialects, customs and cultural identities.
Blunt realities of 19th-century China
The 19th century was one of the most turbulent and violent periods in Chinese history.
The country was battered by rebellions, clan conflicts, famine and foreign invasions. The Opium War in 1839 further uprooted civilians from northern China and pushed them into the already overcrowded southern provinces.
As the Hakka population expanded rapidly over generations, tensions with local Cantonese-speaking communities intensified.
This eventually erupted into the little-known but extremely bloody Punti-Hakka Clan Wars between 1855 and 1867.
The Cantonese-speaking Punti – meaning “natives” – occupied the fertile lowlands, while the Hakka, regarded as “guest families,” were largely pushed into harsher hill regions and uplands.
As the Hakka population grew, many were forced to encroach upon Punti farmlands simply to survive, fuelling deep resentment and violence.
The Hakka were often mockingly referred to as “San Ba Lou” – hill people – because they were driven into poorer mountainous terrain.
Hakka-driven Taiping Rebellion and clan wars
At the same time, the Taiping Rebellion (1850-1864), led by Hakka Christian convert Hong Xiuquan, plunged China into one of the deadliest civil wars in history.
The 14-year uprising against the Qing Dynasty claimed an estimated 20 million lives.
The conflict triggered yet another mass exodus southward.
Amid the chaos, anti-Qing Cantonese Red Turban rebels targeted Hakka communities, resulting in brutal retaliatory violence between Hakka and Punti militias.
The cycle of massacres and revenge killings eventually claimed close to one million lives.
When the Qing Dynasty finally crushed the Taiping Rebellion with military assistance from Britain and France, the Hakka suffered especially harsh reprisals because many had formed the backbone of the uprising.
Large numbers fled into remote hills and barren uplands after fertile valleys and plains were already occupied by other groups. There, they struggled to survive on infertile land under extremely harsh conditions.
The endless struggle to survive as ‘outsiders’
Then came the First Sino-Japanese War in 1894, which caused further upheaval and economic collapse.
The result was widespread poverty, famine and social disorder.
For the Hakka – already viewed as outsiders and intruders – survival became even more difficult.
Lawlessness spread across the countryside, giving rise to rampant banditry and gangsterism.
The famous Daily Express Special Writer Kan Yaw Chong once recalled his father, Kan Chung Ching, explaining why he left China for Nanyang (Southeast Asia) post after World War I:
“Because of sheer anarchy, lawlessness and chaos.”
Families who traditionally depended on male labour in agriculture and livestock farming suddenly found themselves destitute.
Many able-bodied men had already perished in wars and rebellions.
Women, children and the elderly were left to fend for themselves amid famine and insecurity.
Yet despite these overwhelming hardships, the Hakka endured.
They became known for their resilience, perseverance and indomitable spirit in the face of adversity.
This spirit was reflected in the old Chinese saying:
“吃得苦中苦,方为人上人”
(Only those who endure the bitterest hardships can rise above others.)
Over time, stories filtered back to the villages about fellow migrants who had ventured to Nanyang in search of work.
Many suffered harsh working conditions and lived no better than coolies, but some managed to survive and even prosper modestly.
Those who succeeded often sent money home to support struggling families. Even tiny remittances became precious lifelines for relatives left behind.
Villagers would wait anxiously for these small sums to arrive.
Colonial powers and the great exodus to Nanyang
At the same time, European colonial powers were aggressively recruiting labourers to develop plantations, mines and infrastructure projects across Southeast Asia.
British North Borneo, Malaya and other colonial territories needed vast numbers of workers to cultivate rubber, tobacco and coconuts, and to work in tin, coal and gold mines.
Labour brokers and recruiting agents – often from the same districts in China – travelled from village to village signing up desperate young men.
The offers sounded tempting.
Sea passage was paid upfront by employers, though later deducted from wages through indentured labour contracts. At the end of their contracts, workers could either return to China or renew their employment.
Housing was usually crude and overcrowded, while food and daily necessities had to be paid from their own meagre wages. But with conditions at home deteriorating rapidly, many villagers had little choice.
The pathos – leaving for Nanyang from the -Bridge of No Return’
Men of all ages signed up.
Husbands and young sons departed, leaving wives, mothers, fathers and the elderly behind to fend for themselves.
Many villages were located far inland, forcing migrants to travel for days or even weeks along jungle tracks, valleys and mountain paths to reach departure points.
Some travelled by small rivers and streams connected to their villages.
One of the most important gathering points was Dongguan Bridge in Yongchun County.
The bridge served as a final assembly point where families bid farewell to departing loved ones.
Small river boats and junks ferried migrants downstream toward larger coastal ports such as Swatow – present-day Shantou – where they boarded ocean-going vessels bound for Southeast Asia. The river journey itself stretched some 400 kilometres and could take days or weeks. Inside Dongguan Bridge stood shrines where families prayed for the safe passage of their loved ones.
Wooden benches became waiting places where mothers and wives sat anxiously for news or letters from overseas.
Sometimes returning migrants brought qiaopi – letters and remittances sent home by relatives abroad.
For many women, however, the wait stretched endlessly.
A heartbreaking lament captured their despair:
“Black hair turns white; a young woman becomes an old one.”
The Dongguan Bridge thus became not only a physical crossing point, but also an emotional and economic lifeline between migrants overseas and the families they left behind.
‘Last farewell’ at Dongguan Bridge
The emotional scenes at the bridge were unforgettable.
As the small river boats prepared to depart, distraught mothers and wives gathered along the riverbank.
They cried out the names of their husbands and sons, begging them to take care of themselves and eat properly.
Many women collapsed in anguish, beating their chests and kneeling on the rough ground as the boats slowly drifted away from the jetty. The departing men often stared silently back, suppressing their own grief.
Families then rushed onto the bridge itself, gripping the wooden railings as they watched the boats disappear around the final river bend.
Only then did the terrible reality sink in:
Their loved ones had left their homeland behind, perhaps forever.
For this reason, Dongguan Bridge became known as “The Bridge of No Return.”
Some also called it “The Bridge of Parting.”
But whatever its name, the bridge became a powerful symbol of heartbreak, sacrifice and endurance.
Those who never made it
The journey to Nanyang was dangerous and unforgiving.
Migrants crowded onto poorly equipped ships, exposed to storms, hunger and disease.
Many died during the voyage.
Their bodies were often thrown overboard without ceremony.
Even those who arrived safely faced brutal conditions. Work in plantations, mines and construction projects was physically punishing. After deductions for debts, lodging and food, wages were pitiful.
Malnutrition, disease and exhaustion caused extremely high mortality rates.
Some estimates suggested plantation death rates exceeded 50 per cent.
A bridge tied to Sabah’s history
One of the nearest destinations between Swatow and Nanyang was North Borneo, then under British administration. The British North Borneo Chartered Company actively recruited Hakka and other Chinese labourers beginning in the late 1800s.
A huge workforce was needed to clear forests, cultivate plantations and build roads across the territory.
Many Sabah Chinese families today trace their ancestral roots to migrants who once crossed Dongguan Bridge before boarding ships to North Borneo.
Their resilience and sacrifices helped lay the foundations of modern Sabah.
Today, Dongguan Bridge remains a poignant reminder of the immense suffering and courage of the early Chinese diaspora.
Many descendants have since returned to visit the bridge – retracing the painful journeys of their forefathers and reliving the anguish endured by the families left behind.
For these reasons, the Dongguan Bridge – forever remembered as “The Bridge of No Return” – continues to carry one of the most moving legacies in Chinese migration history.
Editor’s note: This article is written by David Y K Leong, a retired former manager of HSBC. This Special Report draws from historical records, oral histories and Hakka migration accounts.




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