Father was indeed religious, mother not so and I couldn’t give a damn, in fact as soon as I was old enough to escape the Sunday school/confessional/communion rigmarole interest in that department collapsed as effectively as the walls of Jericho under Joshua’s persistent trumpeting – so to speak. Enormous relief then, probably mutual, to see the back of Arnold’s Good Shepherd and I never really bothered with church again until coming around, professionally, to the splendours of vaulted masonry. Religious interest lay similarly dormant until living and working amongst those who really cared. But that’s easy in Asia where religion takes on a more colourful, less proselytising and altogether more welcoming style, particularly within the syncretic Buddhist, Tao and Hindu orders.
St. John's Cathedral with HSBC looming upwards on the right.
Hong Kong has a balance and although our most important religious icons, HSBC and Bank of China have always dominated, ker-ching, the churchies got in early with St. John’s, the oldest Anglican cathedral (1849) in the Far East, and Christ Church near to - believe it or not - Derby Rd, Kowloon; and don’t blame me if that bloody roof still leaks! Anyway, whilst this newbie lot are preparing for harvest festival our ancient indigenes, the Buddhists and Taos, celebrate the slightly more eldritch ghost festival which is not too unlike our Halloween, except it goes on a bit longer and we don’t wear masks. In essence it’s all about the gates of hell opening for a whole month to let out the inmates - think you’ve been there? Think again! These are no kindly ghosts like granny, granddad or batty old auntie Sybil (for they have a special day), these are real hardcore miscreants, spirits of the unloved or those who simply missed out on a decent wake, intent on stalking old stamping grounds and, to put it frankly, giving you shit in the year ahead. And let’s face it, that’s the last thing you need when things are going so well. Imagine all your worst enemies, admittedly dead ones, coming back to haunt you. So it’s a serious event and these boggers need appeasing. But don’t fret, there’s stuff can be done to thwart ‘em, all they really want is food, entertainment and a little respect.
Priests ‘n’ district councils get in the spirit, scuse pun, by erecting large bamboo sheds for noisy opera performances (think ear-piercingly shrill vocals, the clashing of dustbin lids, fab costumes and super makeup), front pews remaining vacant for ghostly possession. Other places assemble 15-foot paper effigies of Taai Si Wong, hell’s copper (yes they really do exist) who reports your miserly ways back to the King of Hell which obviously won’t do you much good in the year ahead – he, like Guy Fawkes, gets sent on his way with a match and a flame on the last day. Smaller scale worship occurs in the villages, ours has a small temple, the size of a basic living room where folks can pop in for a quick obeisance on their way to the noodle shop. The more humble amongst us will simply appease the lot by offering food at the door, burn much-laundered HSBC bills (fake) and pong the place out with a few well-stuck sticks of incense. Fully comprehensive cover might have you avoiding nightly strolls and swimming less - a ghostly drowning victim might just tug you under should they fancy a handy rebirth in your body. And there’s more: don’t start a business, move house, get married (hell again?) or wear red, by which ghosts like bulls become incensed – a load of bullocks maybe but it ain’t worth the risk. And on it goes, there’s so much to do: don’t hang clothes out at night (bad if they try ‘em on), don’t pick up coins in the street (ghosts need them more), don’t sing (they like it, but then they haven’t heard me) and avoid walls, they stick to them, though a crafty post-booze piddle might see ‘em off !
Hell's copper Taai Si Wong
During this time the Religious paper shops do a brisk trade, well to be honest there’s always some festival or other which requires their wares: incense, candles, spirit money, various idols, paper models of luxury items, lanterns in fact anything that can be burned as an offering to the deceased. As shops go they’re quaintly atmospheric, deeply aromatic, brightly coloured and managed mostly by the elders. Do visit one if you get the chance, you might remember Huang Yong Ping’s wonderful installation at the Nottingham Contemporary in 2011 – just like that.
Hence as the ghouls trundle hell-ward pleased and appeased before gates close at midnight September 15, those paper shops will have magicked-up enough real dosh to keep heads above water until the next festival and you’ll have done your bit, meriting good fortune for the year ahead – and doesn’t that feel good? So now you know, if you pass a Chinese house in the ghost month look out for that small bowl of food with joss sticks by the door and DON’T, whatever you do, mess with them..
Ben Zabulis is the author of Chartered Territory An Engineer Abroad
We have a favour to ask
LeftLion is Nottingham’s meeting point for information about what’s going on in our city, from the established organisations to the grassroots. We want to keep what we do free to all to access, but increasingly we are relying on revenue from our readers to continue. Can you spare a few quid each month to support us?
