Sunday, April 7, 2013

中国冥民过上清明节


Last Saturday, I discovered something strange in the yard under my flat – hell-money from Hellbank. 


At first, I thought this might be some kind of political spoof; a strange printed comment on governmental corruption.  But as I twisted the note over in my hand, I realised its true meaning.  It’s money that Chinese people burn for the dead, so that they can use it in the afterlife.  And the reason it was in my yard just at this time of year was because China has recently celebrated 清明节 (Qingming Jie). 
  
清明节 (sometimes translated as Clear Bright Festival) is when people go to visit the graves of their ancestors to pay their respects.  This means sweeping their tombs – hence the other common English name for this festival, Tomb-Sweeping Day.  Burning paper money (“hell money” as the translation would have it) is another part of the ritual. 

Ideally, people are able to travel all the way to their ancestors’ graves, but sometimes that is not possible, so they burn offerings in the town where they live.  Last week in Beijing, I saw small groups of people building fires near main roads for this very purpose.  A local Beijing taxi-driver (90% of what I know about China I learnt from taxi-drivers) told me that the fires always need to be next to a crossroads, although he could not explain why.  Other Chinese friends had never heard the thing about the crossroads, so it may only be a Beijing custom.

I still have other questions about the money.  What is the exchange rate between hell-money and earth-money?  What can I buy in the afterlife with 50 RMB?  What kind of shops do they have there?  But I feel embarrassed about asking these questions.  So instead, I will burn the money, and hope it reaches its rightful owner, wherever he or she may be.

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Winter's last stand (20 March)


The shift to spring happened several weeks ago. As tends to be the case in Beijing, there was a period of about a month where the weather hemmed and hawed. The sun hesitantly promised days of fragile warmth, before changing its mind, and letting winter sweep back in.

Then, something strange happened. Winter went all in, and broke itself in one final, spectacular snowstorm. We woke up to fresh inches of snow, and the unmistakeable triumph of spring. As I went for a walk that morning, I saw flocks of Beijingers delightedly taking photographs. This in itself is unusual, as Beijingers habitually take photos of many things (food in restaurants, their dogs, tourist sites), but I have never seen them so entranced by their own city. Without stating it clearly, everyone seemed to understand that this was a sublime morning.