Chengdon't

The legend of Chang’e – the bunny-girl in the moon

As those of you in China will probably be well aware from the enormous quantities of moon-cakes stacked from floor to ceiling in all supermarkets, mid-autumn festival is almost upon us.  Although a certain 60th anniversary has slightly overshadowed it this year, the ‘full-moon’ festival will still be celebrated up and down the middle kingdom in various different ways, including the eating of ‘moon cakes’ and the worshipping of the moon god ‘Chang’e.  The tale of Chang’e and her husband Houyi is an ancient eastern classic, and like most other Chinese fairytales there are many versions.  One of the most commonly told is as follows:

Chang’e was a beautiful young girl working up in heaven where immortals and other good folk lived, ruled over by the all-powerful Jade Emperor. One day, she accidentally broke a precious porcelain jar. Angered, the Jade Emperor banished her to live on earth, and Chang’e was transformed into the daughter of a poor farming family. When she was 18, she met a young hunter from another village called Houyi, and they became lovers.

One day, a strange phenomenon occurred – 10 suns arose in the sky instead of one, scorching the planet and everyone on it.  Houyi, an expert archer, stepped forward to try and save the earth.  He successfully shot down nine of the suns, becoming an instant hero and eventually becoming a King and marrying Chang’e.  However, King Houyi grew to become a tyrant.  Seeking immortality, he ordered an elixir be created to prolong his life. This elixir was in the form of a single pill given to him by the Earth Mother of the West, who warned him that to gain immortality he should only take half the pill.

King Houyi stored the pill in a case, and one day Chang’e happened to come across this mysterious box.  Much like Pandora in Greek mythology she opened it, and (depending on the version) deliberately or accidentally swallowed the pill. This angered King Houyi, who went after his wife. Trying to flee she jumped out a window at the top of palace, and because of the pill’s effects instead of falling she floated into the sky and all the way to the moon.  Although Chang’e was lonely on the moon, she did have a rabbit to keep her company, who according to legend spends all of eternity mixing the elixir of eternal youth.

On mid-autumn festival day (this year falling on the 3^rd of October), an altar is set up in the open air facing the moon to worship the beauty of Chang’e, and most Chinese eat Moon Cakes to celebrate.  Moon Cakes symbolize the full moon, and are intrinsically linked with the mid-autumn festival and Chang’e.  Traditional moon cakes have an imprint on top consisting of the Chinese characters for “longevity” or “harmony” as well as the name of the bakery and the cake filling.

This legend is deeply etched into the hearts and minds of the Chinese, and China’s first moon probe was named Chang’e 1 in honour of the goddess.  However, the story of Chang’e is not just limited to Chinese space travel; before America’s first moon landing in 1969, this conversation between the shuttle Apollo’s mission control in Houston and astronaut Michael Collins on board the ship took place:

Houston: “Among the headlines concerning Apollo this morning there’s one asking that you watch for a lovely girl with a big rabbit. An ancient legend says a beautiful Chinese girl called Chang-o has been living there for 4000 years. It seems she was banished to the moon because she stole the pill for immortality from her husband. You might also look for her companion, a large Chinese rabbit.  The name of the rabbit is not recorded”.

Collins: “Okay, we’ll keep a close eye for the bunny girl”.

Even as a young blog circulating the streets of South West England, Chengdon’t was always an inquisitive publication and, despite the felicidal warnings about curiosity taught to us by old Grandma Chengdon’t remains so to this day.  Therefore it should come as no surprise to regular readers that after receiving a tip-off from a friend about a man in Chengdu running a Chairman Mao memorial museum from his house, dashed over there as recklessly as a local taxi driver needing to get home quickly after too much green tea.

Tucked away on a side-street a few blocks North West of Chengdu’s central Tianfu square you’ll find Wang Anting’s Little Exhibition.  And little it certainly is, as the whole museum takes up the entirety of Mr. Wang’s cluttered and dusty one-room house, with most of the ‘exhibits’ piled high on top of each other.  Mr. Wang, 75, has been running his exhibition for over 20 years, although recently due to ill health he hasn’t had too much time to devote to cleaning and organising his collection.  He shuffles out on two walking sticks to greet us, his hearing aid crackling loudly and echoing every time he speaks.  Despite his ailments he still seems full of beans and answers our questions in a broad Sichuan dialect.

As a youngster in China in the early 50s Mr. Wang was desperate to join up with his friends and fight in the Korean War, but in his own words “I wasn’t a good enough soldier – you need to be really good to fight for your country abroad you know!”  Instead he was one of the first workers from the People’s Republic of China to enter T1bet as a lumberjack.

After returning to Chengdu he began his own personal homage to Mao Zedong, the then leader of the newly formed People’s Republic of China, which now boasts an incredible 50,000 badges, posters, portraits and busts of his beloved Chairman displayed in his home and sustained by patrons offering voluntary contributions to enter if they could afford it.  Looking at the guest book there seemed to have been a stream of both Chinese and foreign visitors, with one American admirer so enamoured by the exhibition that he sent a special Chairman Mao T-shirt over from the US as he thought Mr. Wang might like it.

Now, sadly, it seems as though time and tide has caught up with Mr. Wang and his collection, both of which are looking a little ragged around the edges, and the curator is looking at handing the care of his collection to a new custodian. “I’d be happy to let someone else have the museum – for the right price!” he quips.  “I don’t want to just give my collection away to children, they have no idea what Chairman Mao represents, and would just throw my badges away.  I need someone who can appreciate them and keep his memory alive”.

After finally leaving Mr. Wang to his thoughts and his badges, one would imagine that most visitors probably go through a range of mixed emotions.  What should one be feeling now?  Fascination at having seen possibly one of the largest collections of contemporary Chinese historical items known to man?  Guilt at having only handed over a voluntary donation to see it?  Pity for the old custodian and his exhibits slowly decaying in decrepit surroundings?  For this magazine at least, all of the above and more were true, but one thing is certain, if you feel the inclination to visit you won’t leave Wang Anting’s Little Exhibition unmoved.

The Exhibition is open on weekdays and Saturdays from 10am to 6pm.  There is no formal entrance charge, but if you wish to take photos of the exhibits or curators expect to be asked for a small donation.

Wang Anting’s Small Exhibition (王安廷小小展览馆)

Address: 23 Wufu Street (地址: 成都市五福街23号)

Photo(s) of the week

Found this a while back, it surely must be the holy grail of China-bike photography – can anyone beat this?  Is it even possible?

Let’s go back in time to the early ‘80s, and Deng Xiao Ping, leader of the Chinese Communist Party, veteran of the Long March and seen by many as the founding father of modern China was touring the United States.  Part of the state visit saw Deng and his entourage pay a visit to the east coast seat of learning Boston.  After the business of the day was complete, Mr. Deng’s diplomatic counterparts decided to take him to see that most American of institutions, a basketball game at the team founded in tribute to the city’s Irish community, the Boston Celtics.

All was going well and the Chinese delegation seemed to be enjoying the action when things suddenly and unexpectedly took a turn for the worst.  As a token of friendship to commemorate the occasion, a state official attempted to present the Chinese leader with one of the Celtic’s trademark green hats, but instead of accepting it the usually unflappable Deng looked horrified, not only refusing to accept the hat, but vigorously and repeatedly pushed it away.  Bemused, the hat-giver looked over at the rest of Deng’s group, all of whom were looking as shocked as their illustrious leader.  The reason for such an extreme reaction?  Well, the phrase ‘wearing a green hat’ in Chinese mocks a man’s masculinity, as it implies that his partner is cheating on him.

In one sense adapting to life in China isn’t the enormous cultural leap that many who have yet to visit this vast and diverse nation imagine.  Globalising influences like television, movies and the internet have narrowed cultural divides, and especially in larger, more economically developed cities such as Shanghai or Beijing the Chinese are so used to dealing with foreigners that one can walk down the street without attracting so much as a solitary ‘hello!’

In modern China there are no vast religious, political or ideological barriers to adapting to life here that one might find in some parts of South America or the Middle East, and the Chinese themselves are, on the whole, a practical and flexible (if superstitious) race.  This flexibility may well be part of the reason that most Chinese who move abroad adapt and integrate relatively well into whatever society they arrive in.

However, with a country that was cut off from the rest of the world for the best part of the twentieth century there will inevitably be differences in attitudes and outlooks that come into play when people from two different societies meet, with the green hat incident serving as a high profile example of this.  Incidentally, I’m pretty sure that this particular issue has reared its colourful head in a diplomatic setting at least one before.  Sitting proudly in Beijing’s National War museum, presented to the head of the People’s Liberation Army by his counterpart in the Australian forces is a faded slouch or bush hat that makes up part of the antipodean country’s military uniform – in green.  It must have been a brave official who handed a green hat over to the head of the world’s biggest army!

There are countless other little cultural or linguistic faux-pas that an unwary and unprepared visitor can make in China, a selection of which can be found in the side bars, some of which are understandable, others slightly less so.  However, as pointed out above, none of these represent a catastrophic or unforgivable error, as most Chinese understand that their cultural norms are different to most other societies, and don’t generally take offense when these minor indiscretions are committed.  On rare occasions can even be an amusing way to break the ice between strangers from different lands!  Still, it’s probably best to leave that Celtics hat back at home for now, just in case…

• Never give a clock, as song zhong (the Chinese for give clock) sounds very similar to the phrase for making funeral arrangements, and clocks also represents time running out or slipping away i.e. impending death (strangely giving watches are ok)
• Scissors and knives symbolize the cutting of ties – not such a good move, especially when trying to forge a relationship with a new Chinese business partner
• Giving an umbrella (or yu san in Mandarin) is not recommended, as the san can also mean to crumple or disintegrate, and you don’t want to rain on anyone’s parade!
• Shoes are not a good gift, as xie sounds similar to the mandarin for evil
• ‘Giving a book’ in the Chinese language sounds the same as ‘delivering defeat’
• Never wrap your gifts in white or black paper.  Colours are important, red is lucky and used for celebrations, and white and black are bad as they associated with death
• When at a Chinese banquet, always try to leave a small amount of food left in your bowl when you are full.  Failure to do so symbolizes that your host didn’t serve you enough food – a grave insult in China’s culture of hospitality
• Also food related – do not stab your chopsticks into your rice bowl and leave them propped up, and this resembles incense sticks burnt at family graves – yet another reminder of death
• Numbers are also important, and just as the number 13 is an ill omen in the west, so the number 4 is frowned upon as it sounds similar to the Chinese word for death