A version of this story appears in The Bamboo Metropolis, the third volume of our Zolima Culture Guide. Pledge your support for our Kickstarter campaign and earn exclusive early bird deals! Sign up now at our Kickstarter page.
When it comes to young bamboo scaffolders in Hong Kong, Daisy Pak Pik-ki and Sam Wai Sze-hang are familiar names. The 32-year-olds have appeared in media interviews, public talks and workshops, and have worked with organisations and artists in Hong Kong and beyond. Bonded by a shared love of bamboo scaffolding, their goal is simple: to keep the craft that built their lives going.
Before a friend introduced him to the industry, Wai tried several jobs, from sales and delivery to warehouse work, but none lasted. He never imagined he would eventually become a bamboo scaffolder, stay in the industry for more than 10 years, and even set up his own company, Sam’s Bamboo Limited, to promote the craft.
“To be honest, I didn’t pay much attention to bamboo scaffolding at first,” he says. “I only realised later that it takes a lot of effort. It’s not a craft that you can learn in a day. You can’t just pick up how to tie knots or build scaffolding overnight. What you put in is what you get out.”
Wai started his career at construction sites, where he would pass bamboo poles and do odd jobs under experienced masters. It took him more than two years to be allowed to work on scaffolding itself, and another three years to build the full structure. “After all, this industry is risky,” he notes. “If you can’t even handle the basics on the ground, how can you expect to stand on it?”
A female scaffolder
As a rare female bamboo scaffolder in Hong Kong — one who is just five-foot-one, with a fear of heights — Pak has fought against the odds to build her place in a male-dominated industry. But she has earned her respect: she was one of six recipients of the Construction Industry Outstanding Young Person Awards in 2025.
Pak first encountered bamboo scaffolding at 20, when she was working as a painter at Disneyland which had to work on a bamboo scaffold outside the Tarzan Treehouse. She was drawn to the way scaffolders assembled the bamboo lattice and asked for a job. But they turned her down right away because, to them, she looked skinny and weak.
Pak’s passion for the time-honoured craft was reignited in 2021 after she left a nightclub job that had led to drug abuse and debt. Without any connections, she contacted every scaffolding group on Facebook in search of opportunities. “Everyone in the industry has heard of me,” she recalls with a laugh. “At first, I thought it would be easy, but just learning how to tie a knot and pass a bamboo pole took me months.”
As a woman in the field, Pak often has to work harder to prove herself. Some supervisors hesitate to assign her to scaffolding work, but she persists. “They think men are more capable. I wouldn’t say it’s discrimination, it just means I have to work harder to earn my chances,” she says.
The challenge is especially evident in Chinese celebrations. In addition to specialising in truss-out scaffolding for smaller exterior projects, Pak and Wai have expanded into traditional festival structures such as bamboo theatres and flower plaques.
When we first met on Po Toi Island, Pak was climbing to about three storeys high to build the roof of a bamboo theatre on a cliff for the annual Tin Hau Festival in May, working alongside a team of experienced male sifus. It was an opportunity she had fought hard for, accepting lower pay and taking on a junior role.
“I was the first woman to climb and build a bamboo theatre. Traditionally, women were considered unclean and not supposed to climb above men’s heads. But I’m lucky to be born in this era and the sifus [masters] here didn’t hold that perception.”
Passing on the heritage
Two years ago, Wai reached out to Pak. “I was curious about how good this female scaffolder was, so I asked her to help with some projects,” he recalls. As they got to know each other, they discovered their birthdays are just a day apart – and they also share a vision of preserving the centuries-old craft.
Together, the duo now organise bamboo scaffolding workshops and talks. They also work on exhibitions such as PMQ’s 2025 Wa!Craftlink festival, an event based around the heritage of Japanese craftsmanship, for which they helped realise an installation by designer Wesley Liu. Their renown now extends across the border: they were invited to build a traditional Hong Kong traditional flower plaque in Guangzhou last November.
“Not for money or fame, we just simply want to take the craft further and introduce it to more people,” says Wai. “Few scaffolders in our generation talk about the craft, while many older masters see it mainly as a way to earn a living.”
For him, bamboo scaffolding is an art full of possibilities. “It shouldn’t be seen as a dead object,” he says. “There are different ways to carry it forward, whether in architecture, art or everyday life. With the same skills, we can create all kinds of things. Bamboo scaffolding can be lively.”
Beyond working with artists and different collaborators to showcase and transform bamboo scaffolding, Pak hopes to document and preserve the craft for. She has several projects on her plate, from first-ever music video on bamboo scaffolding featuring rap and hip pop dance to writing a book and collaborating with artists, including Lam Lap-see’s Bamboo Palace, Revisited at Blindspot Gallery, all in an effort to pass on what she says “saved her life.”
Pak’s ultimate goal is to build a bamboo scaffolding museum in Hong Kong: “I didn’t see myself going this far when I joined the industry,” she says. “But it’s what I love most and there’s so much to learn in the craft.”
A version of this story will appear in The Bamboo Metropolis, the third volume of our Zolima Culture Guide. Pledge your support for our Kickstarter campaign launching soon and earn exclusive early bird deals!
Sign up now here.